Transcendence
by kendall
Summary: The sequel to "Life's a Bet," find out what happens to jewel, Ivy, and her friends


"Transcendence"  
By Me, Kendall  
~For my teachers, for not taking away my notebook while I wrote during classes~  
tran-scend \tran(t)s-'end\ vb [L transcendere to climb across,  
transcend, fr. trans- + scandere to climb -- more at SCAN] vt (14c)  
1 a : to rise above or go beyond the limits of  
b : to triumph over the negative restrictive aspects of: OVERCOME  
c : to be prior to, beyond, and above (the universe and material exsistence)  
2 : to outstrip or outdo in some attribute,quality, or power   
~ vi : to rise above or extend notably beyond ordinary limits -- n tran-scen-dence  
~~~~~~  
She stared into the somber, inky blackness of the night. A warm breeze brushed past her, fanning a few strands of hair. She relished the thought of her freedom as she rubbed her wrists. The invisible shackles were gone. A crack rang out like a shot. She jumped and looked behind her. Cautiously, she rose and peered through the dark branches. All she could see was a color-drained clearing. Night had a way of twisting things around. She breathed slowly and turned to sit back down again. A dark figure blotted the moonlight pouring between the gaps of the heavy boughs, causing her to catch her breath. He seemed as surprised as her, but he recovered much quicker.   
"You?" he asked. "What are you doing here?" He reached out his hand to grab her wrist. She took a step backward, then jumped through the branches, leaving her arms clawed with long, angry scratches. She absent-mindedly pulled a leaf from her hair as she ran off. He wouldn't follow for long, she knew. As she cleared a log, she glanced back. The dark brambles remained silent; no one was coming after her. She would have to find another place to sleep tonight. A place in the city, maybe. She kept walking until she reached the entrance of the park. As she read the street signs, she realized with a sinking feeling that she had left her belongings back at the tree. She'd have to get them tomorrow, then. And there was still the problem of money. She leaned against the shadows, walking down an empty alleyway.  
"Hey kid, what're ya doin out here so late?" She froze, but eventually turned around.   
"What are you doing out here so late?" she said, nearly tripping over her tongue. She calmed down a little when he laughed, but was still wary.  
"Where ya going so late?" he asked. "Home?" She shrugged. A half-truth.  
"It looks like youse been in a run droo Central Park," he said, gesturing to her arms and the leaves in her hair.  
"So?" she said, turning around. The boy was a newsie, she could tell from the ink covering his hands. Working as a newsie meant money. "Hey," she said as she faced him. "You know where the distribution office for the World is?"  
"You thinkin of becomin a newsie?" He looked skeptical. She shrugged.  
"Yeah, well you take dis road down until you get past there, then take a left and you're on Newspaper Row. The distribution office opens 6:15 usually, an it's good ta get dere early." He paused. "Hey kid, you got a name?"   
'No, not really,' she thought, but quickly remembered what Charley used to call her. "Ivy," she said finally.  
"Ivy, dat's nice. I'm Racetrack." She raised an eyebrow. Racetrack? What kind of a name is that?  
"It's Anthony really. Anthony Higgins, but my friends call me Race," he quickly clarified.  
She nodded and shook his hand. "See ya round Race."  
"Yeah, see ya," he echoed, watching her leave.  
~~~~~~  
  
"Ivy? Hey doll, take a look at dis for me."  
"Hmm?" Ivy said, snapping her thoughts away. She leaned over to look at the paper Race held in his hands. He pointed at the article about a horse. She tapped a finger on the wooden table of their favorite diner.  
"What about it?" she asked.  
"Dey say The Stakes Are High is gonna be top pick for his race. What do you think?" he looked at her earnestly. She examined the article, then smiled.  
"He won't win," she said simply.  
"Why not?" Race demanded.  
She smiled. "Dance is in that race and she hasn't lost since you've been training her," Ivy remarked. Race grinned.  
"Oh yeah," he said. He was proud to have trained the horse so well. There were a few ugly rumors circulating--an eighteen-year-old newsie isn't exactly the type of person you'd expect training a first-place winner, but Race proved them wrong. Dance rarely lost races since he had started training her five months ago, making her one of the most respected and expensive horses alive. A dull pain would come into the pit of Race's stomach every time he thought about how he had the chance to buy Dance, but it was either that, or bail Ivy out of jail. He couldn't bear the thought of not seeing her for four more years and he was happy with his choice, but still he could dream.  
"How're the lovebirds?" a cheerful voice called out. Ivy and Race watched as Kid Blink sailed through the diner, sliding into the seat across from the two.  
"I feel like I should ask you the same thing," Ivy laughed. "Mae seemed quite happy to see you last night." Blink blushed and shrugged. The topic of his on-and-off girl was always one that made him squirm. A waiter appeared and took Blink's order.   
"So…" Blink began, "what's up for tonight?" Race glanced up from his paper.  
"Poker game," he responded. "Snoddy says he learned some special trick. I'll bet by da third hand, I'll have caught, copied, an improved on it." Ivy smiled.  
"Wish I could watch, but as you know, I'm not going to be around tonight," she said, taking a sip of her strong coffee.  
"What're you talking about?" Race asked. Ivy set down her coffee.  
"Oh Race, don't tell me you forgot," she said. Race avoided her glance.  
"Forgot what?" he asked. Ivy sighed.  
"Spot's takin me out to dinner, Race. I must've told you a hundred times." Race fiddled with his pocket watch. Blink grinned as he watched the beginnings of their fight. One of Race's downfalls is the fact he can never remember anything, and Ivy was never slow to remind him.   
"Well, what's he doin takin you out?" Race demanded. Ivy pulled at his hand.  
"I told you. Spot wants to talk about Bull and the gang and things like that," Ivy said. She kissed his nose. "Things I don't exactly want my beau to hear about." Race frowned.  
"Like?" he asked slyly. Blink laughed. Definitely one of the more interesting fights.  
Ivy leaned back against her seat. "Nice try, Higgins." Race shrugged. Ivy pulled out his watch.  
"I better get going," she said, frowning at the watch. She slid out of the seat. "Bye Blink, bye Race." She leaned down and gave Race a kiss. They continued for a minute until Blink cleared his throat loudly.  
"You're leaving, remember?" he said, grinning. Ivy broke the kiss and smiled. She waved good-bye and ran out the door. Race watched her go with a forlorn smile. He sighed as the door slammed shut. Blink noticed all this and grabbed Race's paper.  
"Do you ever spend more that fifteen minutes away from er?" he asked, reading the articles.  
Race thought it over for a second. "Define away," he said finally. Blink laughed.  
~~~~~~  
  
Ivy pulled at her sleeves. Life was much better now. Not perfect, granted, she almost always went hungry nighttimes, but she had learned how to pull her belt tighter and grit her teeth against starvation. She hadn't heard from Bullet since the day he appeared in the prison room. That worried her for a minute, but at least he was keeping true to his promise. Come to think of it, she hadn't heard from Tad either. God, she wished he was ok. Her footsteps left small imprints in the dirty snow, causing a little cold to seep into her thin shoes. She hurried as she saw the sign hanging out in front of an ancient brick building. She bounded up the steps and through the door.  
"Evening Green," the owner said. Ivy smiled.  
"How are you, Kloppman?" He nodded and pulled out the logbook. Ivy quickly wrote down her name, pausing in between. She handed the book back and he read her name and laughed.  
"I like it," he said. Ivy smiled back and ran up the stairs.  
"When Spot comes, tell im I'll be down in a minute," Ivy yelled back. As she walked into the bunkroom she noticed Mush and Mary on one of the bunks.  
"Ahem," she said. Mary looked up and blushed.  
"Hi Green," she said, sliding off Mush's lap. Mush matched her shade of red.  
"Heya Green," he said, avoiding her eyes. Ivy grinned.  
"Aww, don't mind me, I'm just getting changed," she said. Mush shrugged and leaned in again. Mary dodged him and shot a look.  
"What're you getting changed for?" she called as Ivy disappeared into one of the stalls.  
Ivy tossed her dress over the edge as she started changing.   
"Spot's taking me out for dinner." Mush and Mary exchanged glances.  
"Spot?" Mush said. "Why not Race?" Ivy opened the door of the stall.  
"No reason. Spot wanted to talk with me about some things," she said. "Mare, would you mind buttoning me up?" Mary rose and stood behind Ivy.  
"Well, I think I'll go downstairs. Don't leave widout telling me Mary," Mush said. Mary nodded, distracted by the small, round buttons. He sauntered down the stairs to the first floor. He wanted to be sure it looked like he was broke before the poker game, otherwise he'd be dragged into it and Race would end up with all his money.  
"How're you fixing your hair?" Mary asked. Ivy shrugged.  
"The way it is now I guess," she said. She hadn't really thought about things like that. It took most of the week just to find a dress, what did she care about her hair? Mary clapped her hands.  
"Can I fix it?" she asked, excited. Ivy raised an eyebrow. Mary stood with her hands clasped, pleading. Finally, Ivy sighed and Mary grinned. She pulled out the bone clips from her hair and began braiding Ivy's. Ivy couldn't sit still for very long and kept turning her head.  
"Green!" Mary scolded. "How'm I going to get this done if you keep moving your head?" Ivy shrugged.  
"Are you done yet?" Ivy asked after a minute. Mary stepped back. She laughed when she saw the outcome.  
"What did you do ta me?" Ivy yelled, running to a mirror.   
"Greenleaves, don't run! You'll rip your dress," Mary shouted after her. Ivy stood in front of the mirror, trying to look at the back of her head.   
"Don't squirm, it looks nice," Mary assured her. Ivy bit her lip and sighed. She walked back into the bunkroom. Race was lying on one of the beds, tossing his cap in the air. He jumped up when she walked into the room.  
"Ive, hey," he stuttered. "Nice dress." Ivy glared at him.  
"Don't remind me," Ivy said sullenly. Mary suppressed a laugh.  
"Well, I'll leave you two alone," she said, walking past Race. "Have a nice time on your date, Green." Race and Ivy shot her glares as she wandered down the stairs. Race threw his cap onto his bed and gave Ivy a kiss on the cheek.  
"Ya look nice," Race said softly. Ivy smiled.  
"An you're not nervous?" she asked slyly. She was still a little mad about the fact he had forgotten.   
"Nervous?" Race said. "What's dere to be nervous about?" Ivy smiled, she was just getting warmed up.  
"Your best friend and your best girl, sitting inches away in a dark room, sharing our darkest secrets, and with Spot's reputat-" She didn't finish as Race pulled her into a deep kiss. When he broke the kiss, Ivy was breathless.  
"Think a that when you're inches away, sittin in a dark room," Race said. Ivy smiled and pulled him closer.  
~~~~~~  
Blink sat in his seat at Tibby's and watched the door swing open. A young woman walked in, smiling and nodding. Blink coughed on his soda as recognized her.  
"Alexandra?" he asked. She turned her head slowly. As her eyes locked onto his, she walked swiftly towards him.  
"Kid Blink? I'd given you up for dead," she said, smiling. He stood up and slipped his arm around her shoulder. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, blushing in the process. Blink and  
Alexandra slid into the booth smiling into each other's eyes.  
"Blink?" Blink froze. He heard the tone in the familiar voice and was almost afraid to look.   
"Look," he started, "this ain't what it looks like, Mae." He jumped out of the booth and faced her. She snubbed her nose at him and turned around. He grabbed her shoulder.  
"Mae, this is just an old friend," he said. "We was just catching up-"  
"On what?" she growled. Blink didn't answer, but looked at her helplessly. She nodded. "I thought so. Blink, we can't keep doing this." Blink sighed. Alexandra walked up next to him and  
slipped her hand into his.  
"Who's she?" she asked quietly. Blink's color dropped a little.  
"My…uh." Mae glared at him.  
"Yeah, that's who I am," she said. She looked at him for a minute, then walked out of the diner, shaking her head. She wiped her eyes dry, leaving more room for the tears to form.  
"Are you alright miss?" a kind voice asked. Mae found herself standing in front of a tall, handsome young man. His dark eyes reflected concern as he watched the young girl cry.   
"Oh, I'm fine," Mae said shyly. He smiled.  
"I know better than that," he said, teasing. She gave a shy smile. He lightly dried her eyes and motioned towards a bench.  
"Wanna talk about it?" he asked. She hesitated; scenarios like this were common and deadly in the great city. But he seemed genuine enough, so she nodded and took a seat.  
"It's about a guy I know," she started. The young man smiled knowingly. She explained their backwards relationship and the encounter at the diner. He listened closely and attentively, supplying words when she needed them and nodding every once and a while to agree with her. She looked up as she described Blink's expression in the diner. He loved that girl. She could tell from his blue eye, shining with happiness whenever it rested on her. Her eyes were fluid and pained, but she saw the comfort and kindness in the listener's face and relaxed. Taking a deep breath, she leaned in. He slid an arm around her as she deepened the kiss.  
~~~~~~  
  
"Well, if it idn't da great Spot Conlon, all dolled up," Jack called when his friend entered the building. Spot smiled as he spat in his hand. The two leaders shook, at peace with each other, for the moment.  
"So, who's da lucky goil tanight?" Jack asked. Spot shrugged and pushed his always-present cane into his suspenders loop.  
"Green," he said nonchalantly. Jack jumped.  
"What?" he asked. Spot was taking Green out? He wondered if Race knew about this.  
"I'm taking Green out ta dinner. Whatsamatter? Can't you hear?" Spot said. He crossed over to Kloppman, saying his greetings to the old man.  
Jack scratched his head. "But, why?" he asked blankly.   
"I wanted ta talk to her bout somethings," Spot said. He laughed as he watched Jack grow more nervous with each passing second. "Come on Jacky-boy, you think I'd put the moves on Green? Sides, Race's me best pal, no offense ta you." Jack immediately sighed.  
"Youse had me worried dere, Spot. But Race let you do dis?"  
Spot shrugged. "Haven't gotten a complaint yet." He turned the logbook around to face him.  
"Any new boys?" he asked, flipping the pages. He smiled slyly. "Or girls?" Jack laughed.  
"Justone," he said. Spot perked up, but Jack merely grinned. "But he's a guy." Spot sighed and glanced down the row of names, counting under his breath.  
"What's with all da goils named Ivy? I thought it was uncommon," Spot said.  
Jack grinned. "She's tryin out last names."  
"Huh?" Jack pointed to the book.  
"She said she's tired a being just Ivy, she wants a last name, too," Jack said. Spot looked over the last names.  
"Collin?" he asked quizzically. "And Kenny? If she don't watch out, she's gonna sign herself into someone's family." He thought this over for a minute. "Not dat I'd mind havin a baby sister. It'd be fun threatening Race to take good care of my little Green." He laughed and put the logbook back on the desk.  
"I liked the one she thought up today--Blackwell. It makes her sound like a writer," Kloppman put in. Spot turned the idea in his head.  
"Well, where is Miss Ivy Blackwell?" he asked. Kloppman took off his glasses and rubbed them against his shirt.  
"Well, Race just went up a minute ago to see her," he said, his old eyes twinkling. Spot grinned and ran up the stairs.   
"Green!" he shouted. "Dat reservation don't wait for no one!" He flew into the bunkroom as Race wrapped his arms around Ivy's waist. Ivy and Race both jumped when he opened the door.  
"Nice timin, Conlon," Race muttered. Spot grinned and gave Ivy a kiss on the cheek.  
"Nice ta see ya kid, but we gotta get," he said. Race sighed and flopped back onto the bed. Ivy sat on the edge and leaned down.  
"Don't wait up," she whispered. She kissed his ear and started to stand up. Race put his hand behind her neck and pulled her down.   
"Rememba what I said, Ive," he said before he kissed her. Ivy stood up, still kissing him, and only stopped as Spot grabbed her arm and started pulling her towards the door.  
"Bye!" she called. Race waved and sighed as he put his arms behind his head. God it was good to be alive.  
As Ivy and Spot walked down the stairs, they received a few glances from the lounging newsies.   
"Hey Green! You know youse got a Spot on your arm?" Ivy grinned at the comment and continued the descent. As they reached the tired wooden door, they ran into Marty, a first-day newsie.  
"Hiya Ivy," he said. Her's was one of the few names he could remember.  
"Green," she corrected. Only one person called her Ivy, and that was because he was too stubborn to call her anything else. Marty glanced at Spot, then back at Ivy.  
"Where's Racetrack?" Marty asked. Ivy rolled her eyes and Spot gave her the we-don't-have-time-for-this look. Ivy glanced at Jack, who remained lounging on the stairs. Great, now he won't jump in, either.  
"Well, Marty," Ivy said softly. "I hate to say this, but me an Race just don't work out." Marty's eyes widened a little. They seemed perfect this morning.  
"So, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell him yet," Ivy said. She was surprised he actually believed her. Marty squirmed for a minute, not sure if he'd lose a friend doing what she told him, or telling Race.   
"Alright," he said finally. "I won't tell." Ivy's eyes shined at him.  
"Thanks," she whispered. She heard Spot muffle a laugh through a series of broken coughs, then disappear behind the door. Ivy turned, then followed his example.  
~~~~~~  
Bullet walked the young girl to the door of her apartment. She fumbled for her key and slowly turned it in the lock.   
"Do you want to come in?" she offered. Bullet shook his head. That would inevitably lead to trouble--trouble he didn't want. Besides, he had to meet up with someone in a few minutes. She looked disappointed for a minute but smiled once again.  
"Alright. I hope I gave you a few answers to your questions. You must be sweet on Green," she said, teasingly. Bullet just laughed, and watched her slid into her apartment.  
"Good-bye," she waved. Bullet smiled back.  
"So long, Mae." Bullet watched her shut the door and hurried over to the corner store. He bought a piece of writing paper and a cheap envelope. Sitting down on the curb, he pulled out a stubby pencil.  
Trent, he wrote. I found out more information. She lives in the Newsboys Lodging House on Duane Street and works as a newsie. Good-luck finding her, Trent. Sorry to hear that you'll be leaving so soon. Drop me a line wherever you are.  
-Bullet  
~~~~~~  
  
"I'm amazed he actually believed you; Green, you're one hell of an actress," Spot said as they walked out of the stuffy restaurant. Ivy had walked in like a lady, sat like a lady, answered questions like lady, and eaten like a lady; and now, the last thing she wanted to be, was a lady.   
"Damn," Spot said suddenly. Ivy glanced at him quizzically. "Forgot my cap." Ivy laughed as Spot turned back into the restaurant. Ivy leaned into her coat, trying to keep out the cold. She turned her head as she heard someone shuffling towards her.  
"No," she whispered, and the young man grinned. "Bullet."  
He tipped his hat. "Ebbie, how are you?" Ivy backed up a few steps. "And how's that kid that provided the bail? I meant to ask you if he stole it. We've been looking for a new member." Ivy's eyes burned, she hated him so much.   
"I thought you were out of my life," she growled. Bullet shrugged.  
"When it comes to the jewel--yes; when it comes to the gang--yes; when it comes to important information you should know--that's when I draw the line," he said. Ivy glared at him.  
"Any information from you isn't worth having," she said, keeping her guard up. Bullet may be setting a trap for her to fall into, and she wasn't going to let anything throw her--  
"I know who your father is," Bullet taunted.  
--except that. Ivy nearly jumped.  
"What?" she whispered. To her it seemed too soft to hear, but it reached Bull's ears clearly.  
"Your father, your flesh and blood, is here in New York. Betcha didn't see that comin," he looked at her with a malicious smile. "And I know you want to know where, but the thing is-"  
"Excuse me?" Spot had left the tiny restaurant and now faced Bull. "Can I help ya?" Bull glanced at Spot, and at the heavy cane Spot was holding.   
"No, kid," Bullet finally said. He stole another look at Ivy. "So long, Eb." Ivy watched him slip through the soft folds of the shadows. He had always been a master at fading in to the darkness, and now certainly wasn't the exception. Spot glanced at her a minute. She kept her eyes forward and started the walk back to the Lodging House.  
"Green?" Spot asked after a few minutes. Ivy swiveled her head towards him. "Who was dat guy?" Ivy sighed.  
"Bullet," she said sternly. Spot stopped walking, shocked. He had a mental picture in his mind of someone who was big an ugly with a scar across his face and older than Pulitzer. The stylish young man who had been talking with her was nothing like he thought.   
"That was-"  
"Yeah," Ivy interrupted, facing him for the first time. Her eyes glowed and angry green, the warning sign to back off on her. Spot studied her for a minute, and quickly dropped the subject.  
"Thanks for taking me out for dinner," Ivy said as they reached the front steps. She kept her eyes open, not daring to blink and let the tears fall. Spot reached out to kiss her hand, but she pulled it away.  
"Ah," he said, smiling, "I forgot." Ivy didn't return the smile as she walked through the door. She briefly took in the scene of the boys. She had already signed in, and it didn't matter anyway because Kloppman had gone to bed. She locked the front door and sat on the steps, trying not to cry.  
~~~~~~  
"Ok, deuce's wild and we start at ten cents." Race listened to the start of a poker game. He slid his hand over to the cards, feeling the hard paper. He studied the cards closely, being sure not to give anything away from his gestures or expressions. A poker face was a good thing to have in life. It just made things easier.  
"Hey Tracks, you awake?" someone said, snapping their fingers in front of his face. Race's thoughts went back to the game.  
"Call," he said, throwing his money into the pile. He looked up as the door opened and a smile crept across his face when he saw Ivy. As much as he would have liked to walk over to her, he was, after all, in a poker game. He glanced around the table, studying everyone's face and actions. Specs had asked for four cards, and Jake wanted three. Snoddy examined his cards, then looked up at Race.   
"I'm good," he said to Jake, the dealer, giving a sly smile in Race's direction. Race shrugged and discarded two from his hand that were quickly traded in for two new cards. Race held the five cards close, sure not to let any of the onlookers see what he had. The pot was raised another nickel, which Race easily threw in. The round continued and no one folded. Snod smiled at Race and upped the pot a dime. Specs looked at the money, and angrily threw his cards down. Jake stayed in, although from the way he pursed his lips, Race could tell he was bluffing. Race reached for a dime and picked up a quarter instead.  
"Uh, call and raise ya 15," he said. He glanced back at Ivy for a second. Was she crying? He once again started to get up, but remembered what he was doing and stayed rooted to the ground. He sighed and tossed his concentration back on the game.  
"Problem Tracks?" Snod asked in mock-concern. Race merely frowned. Jake folded after a minute, shaking his head in disbelief, but smiling as well. Snoddy put in the money, raising the pot another quarter. Race took this time to watch Ivy again. She was upset about something he realized.  
"Race, your turn," one newsie remarked. Race glanced at Snoddy and tossed in 35 cents. Snoddy put another quarter in quickly, leaving no time for Race to check on Ivy. Snoddy obviously had a great hand, and he also wanted to beat Race bad. Race grinned a minute.  
"Whatsa matter, Snod?" he teased. "Got a date or somethin?" Snoddy glared at him. His previous girl had left him for someone else, leaving arrogant, egotistic Snod in the dust. A few newsies laughed as Snod turned red. Race called and raised another ten cents, but only after checking on Ivy. She was crying, definitely. It took all his will power to stay put, telling himself the game would be over soon, but one look at Snoddy's determined face told him it would be a long game. Snoddy called his dime, and raised it yet another quarter. The pot was almost as large as it had ever gotten, falling a short second to the hour game Race and Spot had played the first day they met. Race started to push his quarter and dime onto the pile, but heard Ivy's foot falls as she ran up the stairs. Race's heart was torn in half. He took another wistful glance at his hand and Snod's face.   
"Fold," he said sternly. Snod stared at him in shock. Race pushed his winnings into his hands to put into his pockets.  
"What?" Snoddy asked. Race looked at him coldly.  
"You won, congratulations," he said. Snoddy looked at him for a minute, then broke out into a cheer. Race barely heard it as he followed Ivy upstairs. Jake started to collect the cards, but stopped as he caught a glance of Race's over-turned cards.  
"Hey, hey Snod?" he said, hitting the overjoyed Snoddy in the shoulder. Snoddy turned, grinning.  
"Yeah?" he said, not really paying attention, but wallowing in his glory.  
"Look at his cards," Jake said. He held out the five flat cards. Snoddy's eyes widened a minute. In his sun-tanned hand, Jake held three aces and a pair of twos.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Tad! I did it!" Tad turned to see one of his best friends yelling after him. He ran towards Tad, happier than he'd ever been in his life. Tad watched his friend bubble with happiness for a minute before he calmed him down.  
"Wha-?" Tad started. The other young man pulled Tad by the shirtfront towards a newsie.  
"Here," he said. He fished in his pocket for a penny. Sheepishly, he turned back to Tad. "Spot me a cent?" Tad laughed and tossed him the penny.  
"This is today's paper, right?" he asked. The newsie looked at him strangely.  
"You stupid, mista?" the newsie said. He swapped the penny for one of his papers and walked off, eyeing the two. Tad watched his friend scan the headlines and point to something on the first page.  
"Here," he said, shoving the paper under Tad's nose.  
"I see it, I see it," Tad laughed. He read the article. He might be closer than he thought. "Nice job," he said, smiling.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
When Ivy woke up, she felt a wave of familiarity flow over her. She waited for the whitewashed walls of the Lodging House to appear, seeing only rough brick walls.   
"Oh no," she whispered, suddenly recognizing the place. "Not here." She could hear footsteps coming, sharp and quick. They were coming for her. She broke out into a cold sweat, wanting to move but frozen to her place. She saw a figure sliding through the shadows.  
"They…? Only one?" she asked herself. But that was wrong. There were others last time. Soon, they began to arrive, answering Ivy's question.  
"Ivy…" someone whispered. She turned her head to the voice. A young man reached out to stroke her cheek. As he did, he shifted into the light and Ivy could see the rumpled sandy blond hair and liquid brown eyes she knew too well.  
"Sammy?" she asked. "You…you're dead." He nodded once.  
"You loved me and you killed me," he confirmed. Ivy stared at him in shock with tears welling up in her eyes. He looked at the tears falling, unmoved. "If you had never loved me, I would still be alive." She shook her head as he disappeared into the darkness. She hoped it was over, but soon another figure emerged. His old wrinkled hands were stern and clenched as he looked at her.  
"I died cold and lonely because I stole for you," he said coldly. "If you had never loved me, I wouldn't have felt the need to give you things--to steal." She was afraid to look at a face with a voice that cold, and kept her eyes on the dirt-covered ground. She heard his retreating footsteps, and the sound of another person shuffling closer.  
"I wish I hadn't fallen in love with you," he said softly. Ivy examined his face. He was one of the many people she had used to get information from while she was in the gang. Bullet had taught her how to use her looks to pry things out of people. How many had she hurt doing this? She couldn't see the mass of bodies, but knew they were there, waiting patiently for their turn to relay the pains she put on them. Their leader remained in the shadows he had first came from. He stood silent, watching and listening. Ivy sat huddled in the corner, hearing the horrors and crying tears and wondering why she was there. This was all wrong, and she couldn't do anything but listen. She longed for the real events to happen. Scars like the ones they had given her eventually healed over, but the cuts and slashes she was receiving now might never mend. Finally, the number of figures dwindled and disappeared, save the leader, still watching from the dark. Ivy tilted her head as she heard him approach her. He knelt down until he looked her in the eye and silently wiped away her tears.   
"You left me, and I couldn't live. You killed me," Race whispered. Ivy threw her head back and screamed.  
"Ivy! Ivy wake up!" Ivy's eyes snapped open. The unlit bunkroom seemed eerie and strange. Ivy realized with a mix of horror and relief that it was a dream…not even that, a nightmare. Race held on tightly to her shoulders. He was afraid if he let go she might be gone. He'd never heard anyone, or anything for that matter, scream like that. Jack angrily jumped down from his bunk.  
"Whatsamatter?" Jack growled. He gazed down at the sweat-soaked sheets.  
"Nightmare," Ivy whispered. Jack shook his head and returned to his bunk, muttering curses. Race looked into Ivy's face.   
"Ya ok kid?" he asked her, concerned. Ivy nodded. She leaned in to kiss him, but her dream gave her a painful reminder. She pulled back suddenly realizing what she had been doing was going to hurt him eventually. She stretched out onto the bed, turning away from him. He watched her for a minute, then crawled in next to her. As he wrapped his arms around her, she felt immediate relief, but she quickly edged away. Race noticed her odd behavior and thought she took his action the wrong way.  
"I'm just gonna stay with ya until ya fall asleep and if you have a nightmare, I can wake you up," Race said. Ivy slid out of her bed, escaping Race's arms. She pulled on her jacket.  
"I think I'll get some air," she said, slipping on her shoes.  
"Ive, it's December," Race said, confused.  
"Will you two shut up?! Some of us are tryin ta sleep!" someone complained from the corner. Ivy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and walked to the window. She climbed out, catching Race's confused gaze. The biting wind bothered her a little, but so long as she stayed as close to the building as possible. She thought about her dream. Just thinking of it made her shiver with a cold fear, although it could have easily come from the wind prickling against her neck. She watched the chilling silver moon float about the city. From the street, a lonely figure gazed up at her. Smiling, Bullet put his hands in his pockets and started home.   
~~~~~~  
  
He leaned forward on his knees, hunched over and shaking. He took out a match and a bent cigarette and tried to light it. His hands trembled, causing the light to go out. Finally, he managed to burn the feeble cigarette. He looked at the red glow for a minute before taking a deep drag. A pain-filled scream rang out from the window above him. He glanced up from his seat on the front step, wiping away the sweat forming on his forehead. A passing police officer heard the scream and took notice of the young man.  
"Son," he said, "it's torture for a young boy like yourself to sit out here and listen to your wife's cries. Now I'm off duty right now, lemme buy you a drink." He searched the hazel, tear-brimmed eyes for an answer. The young man glanced back up at the window with a sigh and rose.  
"Mitchell Blairwood," the officer said. The young man shook his outstretched hand.  
"Will," he replied. Blairwood nodded and turned into a corner pub. He ordered drinks for himself and Will as he slumped into the black wooden stool. While he waited for the drinks to arrive, he quickly studied Will. He had thick blond curls that fell into his eyes. He couldn't be older than twenty either, which made him drinking illegal, but Blairwood figured every husband needed a few drinks on a night like this.  
"How old's your wife?" Blairwood ventured, taking a gulp of alcohol. Will looked up suddenly, causing a golden wave to fall in his face.   
"She--Hazel will be 16 next June," Will said simply. Why lie? It wouldn't get him anywhere. Blairwood nodded. Will sat in the uncomfortable silence and quickly drained the last drops from his mug. He reached into his pocket to pay, but Blairwood stopped him.  
"It's on me, son," he said. Will locked his gray eyes onto Blairwood's   
"Thanks mister," Will said clearly. He shook his hand once more, then turned out of the bar.  
"Will!" Will noticed a small figure running towards him. The little boy was gasping for breath, but he managed to cry, "Will, it's Hazel!" Will firmly placed a hand on each of the boy's shoulders and looked him clear in the eye.  
"What? What's wrong?" The little boy stopped to catch his breath for a minute.  
"Hazel--she had er baby, an Missus Johnson, she says she's gonna die!" Will's stomach cramped. He bounded off for their tiny apartment with the boy at his heels.  
"Hazel!" he yelled as he burst through the door. Mrs. Johnson hurried towards him.  
"Oh, Will, I prayed to God you wouldn't be here," she said, wringing her hands. Will pushed his way through her, but she caught his arm.  
"It won't do any good to go in there, Will. There's nothing we can do to save her." Will looked at her face, contorted with sadness and anxiety. He released her hold and calmly walked into the bedroom.  
"Oh, God," he whispered as he saw her lying there. "Oh, God please don't let her be dead." He reached out with a trembling hand to touch her cold, white arm. Her eyelashes fluttered a moment before she opened her eyes and let them rest on Will's face. Will could have cried looking at her damp hair and swollen, bruised body.   
"Will," she whispered, "they won't let me see the baby." Will smoothed her hair as tears formed on the rims of his eyes. Hazel watched the first one fall.  
"Am I dying?" she asked softly. He choked back a sob. Hazel's face fell a moment; she focused on the dim gaslight on her other side.  
"Hazel…" Will trailed off. He gently touched her limp hand, expecting tears. When she turned to face him again, her eyes were a clear, peaceful blue.   
"Will, I love you," she had haltingly. "Don't forget." Her eyelashes fluttered again and Will knew she was fighting for her life. He waited for the struggle to be over, knowing Death would be the conquer. As she closed her eyes for the final time, Will leaned forward and kissed her. His lips felt her cold skin and he shivered. He rose and walked out of the room.  
"She's dead now," he said simply. Mrs. Johnson let out a flood of tears and her young daughter flew into Will's arms and sobbed. Will stared stony-eyed at the wall, refusing to cry. After a minute, he pushed the younger Johnson away, and started to leave the apartment. Mrs. Johnson caught Will's arm again.  
"Your daughter is with, with Mabel downstairs," Mrs. Johnson sniffled. Will stared at her a minute.  
"My…?" Mrs. Johnson nodded.  
"You best let the dear take care of her for a few weeks, til the babe can live on er own," she explained, taking out a handkerchief. Will's mind was spinning. His wife was dead and he was a father. And he couldn't stay here anymore. He walked down the stairs and into the premature night. He hated Blairwood for taking him away from her, he hated her parents for not caring about her, and the child…he hated the child she had borne that killed her. He heard a baby's muffled cries coming from a downstairs window. The sharp cry grew into a mournful howl, as if she knew no one wanted her. Will paled, and ran.  
~~~~~~  
Ivy leaned against Race's shoulder. She always loved the short times between morning extras and afternoon editions. Race would only buy half the amount he usually did, because at four o'clock, he'd have to leave to train Dance and Ivy would have to find someone else to sell with--usually Blink.  
The freezing December wind blew through her coat and she instinctively moved closer to Race. Her nightmare was written off as nothing but a harmless nightmare and she refused to ignore him because she was protecting him. That hadn't worked last time, and it wasn't going to work now, either. Sitting on a park bench in the middle of December was liable to kill them, but at least they were happy.  
"I'm walking here, freezing my tail off," and old woman remarked as she passed them, "but I'll bet they couldn't be warmer if they were sitting in front of a roaring fire." Ivy raised her head at the sound of the voice, but soon let it fall back to Race's chest.  
"Hey kid," Race gently shook her, letting in a quick bite of cold air, "dair's Spot." Ivy had started to close her eyes, but stopped suddenly. Spot? She might as well stay awake. She glanced over to where he was briskly walking towards them, throwing his head back every once and a while to yell. A small newsie came bounding after him a few seconds later, clutching his papers.  
"Hurry up!" Spot yelled. The kid ran for a few moments before crashing into Spot, spilling the papers into the snow and leaving both of them sprawled out in the slush.  
"Watch where ya goin!" Spot said to the kid angrily. The newsie glared back at Spot in full.  
"If you hadn't stopped so suddenly," he retorted, "I wouldn't of run inta you." Spot stood up, frowning at the stains the dirty snow had made on his thin clothing.   
"Hey Spot, how's da wata?" Race asked, grinning. "Woulda come in with ya, cept I don't have me swimming trunks." Spot looked at Race murderously. Ivy's eyes were dancing with laughter at the thought of Spot lying in the half-melted snow.   
"This brat's been causing me trouble all day," Spot complained. "And worse, he don't even know how to sell!" The kid jumped up from reviving his papers and looked Spot in the eye.  
"Maybe," he started, stressing each word, "I'd learn if you'd actually teach me instead of talking about yourself!" Ivy bit back a laugh. The two boys were getting tense, and she quickly intervened.  
"Uh Spot? Why don't you introduce your friend here?" Race snorted back a laugh, and watched Spot's reaction with interest.  
"Green, Race, dis is Chris--first day," Spot muttered, slouching over to the bench. "Chris, Racetrack and Greenleaves." Chris glanced at them, and at the three-inch space Spot had left on the bench. He sighed, and returned to gathering his papers.  
"What are ya doin in Manhattan?" Race asked. Spot rubbed his ankle.  
"Talking to Jack." He glanced up at the big clock on top of a bank. "Geez, an I'd betta get goin. Ma feet are killin me." He looked at his worn-though shoes with the tied together loose ends he used as shoelaces.  
"I wish I didn't have ta walk to Manhattan every time I wanna tell Jack somethin," he said, sighing. "Come on, Chris." He stood up. Chris stared at the wet mess his papers had left.  
"But-" he started. Spot shook his head.  
"Learn not ta run into people," he said quickly. Chris watched his light eyes, knowing he was defeated, at least now. Spot stood up and gave a brief wave to Race and Ivy, and started walking down the path. Chris wistfully looked at his papers, and hurried after.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Tad gave a few curt knocks on the door, setting his face to show a stony expression. He waited for the door to open. His best friend, the one he trusted with his secrets and techniques, now looked at him with fear in his eyes.  
"God Tad," he said, calming down in a minute. "I thought you were one of them." He nervously ran his hands through his sandy blond hair and closed the door.  
"Where be it Sammy?" Tad asked, straight out. Sammy jumped after hearing him.  
"In my room," he said, warily. "We have time to grab it and leave…before they come." He watched Tad's blank expression. "You and me…and my fiancée." This threw Tad. Sammy noticed his shock.  
"Well, I haven't asked her yet, but I hope she'll say yes," he clarified. He reached for a letter on his table. He blew off a layer of charcoal dust that had settled on the thin letter paper and showed it to Tad. Tad looked at the sketch of a beautiful young girl, nearly jumping.  
"No," he mumbled. "Not her."   
"Her name is Ebbie," Sammy said, putting the letter into an envelope and licking it shut. He wrote her name out on the front as he continued talking.  
"But we don't have time to talk now, so let's get going," he said. Tad put his hand in front of Sammy.  
"No," he said slowly. Sammy examined the look on Tad's face.  
"But…we can just…we have enough time, Tad," Sammy said, confused. He didn't like the look in Tad's eyes.  
"Give me the jewel, Sammy," Tad commanded. Sammy backed up a few paces, worried. Tad was strong and a well-trained fighter. Sammy didn't stand a chance if they fought.  
"Don't you get it? We'll leave and then we can share it--you and me and Ebbie of course," Sammy said, praying his friend would come to his senses.  
"I don't want to share it!" Tad yelled, pushing Sammy backwards. "I've spent half me life trying to get it!" Sammy's eyes flared.  
"You used me!" he accused. "To get at it!" Tad glared at Sammy underneath his arched eyebrows. "But, why didn't you just do it yourself?" Sammy asked, pleading. Tad surmised a minute before answering.  
"Because of her," he said, throwing his head towards the letter.  
"Ebbie?" Sammy questioned.  
"Her name tisn't Ebbie!" Tad rushed. "I had everything worked out. All I had to do was join the gang, but she had to be a member already. I knew her, back in the old country. A starving, neglected orphan, she was. And all she had in the world was meself. I couldn't join the gang with her in it; it would ruin everything."  
"So you conned me," Sammy finished. Tad nodded, showing no remorse. Tad moved a little closer.  
"Now," he said, "you mentioned it being in your bedroom…" Tad moved quickly through the tiny apartment, entering a cluttered bedroom. A heavy velvet bag laid on the bed. A bag like that alone could bring a few dollars, but Tad knew the treasure it held inside was worth a thousand times more. He heard Sammy's footsteps behind him.  
"When they come, I'll tell them you took it," Sammy threatened. Tad's left eyebrow went down in a quick thought.   
"We'll just have to fix that, won't we?" Tad said simply. He glanced around the apartment while Sammy eyed him with fear. Heavy bangs could be heard on the other side of the door. Both young men looked wide-eyed at the source of the noise. Tad pulled his hand out of a bowl of warm dough, holding the sticky substance and crept up beside Sammy. Without a second thought, he pushed the thick dough into Sammy's mouth and down his throat. Sammy doubled over, looking at Tad in pain. Tad stared at his best-friend's face with a stony expression. He went back to the bedroom and sat outside the fire escape listening to the sounds coming from the apartment. A loud crash was heard and he knew they had arrived.  
"Samuel, where is the jewel?" someone asked. Tad heard a heavy kick being delivered, nearly wincing. A deeper voice swore, stopping the cruel beating.  
"The little…he swallowed it," the voice continued. Tad leaned in through the window, watching the scene. A lanky blond boy pulled out a knife.  
"We can fix that," he said, grinning. Tad watched, expressionless, and finally left, clutching the bag close.  
~~~~~~  
  
Ivy watched Race head in the direction of the racetracks. She loaded her papers into her shoulder and walked off in search of Blink. He was pushing papers near a busy street. Ivy waited for him to sell another pape, then tapped his shoulder.  
"Green!" Blink grinned. Ivy gave him a small smile. She opened a paper and shouted a headline as she greeted her friend. She had 37 papers in her thin arms; Blink had 22.  
"You selling alright?" Blink asked, concerned. Ivy shrugged. "You don't got your mind on newspapers, do ya?" She shook her head. "Then what?" Ivy sighed as she set down her papers.  
"My father," she said softly. "There's so much I want to tell him, and I can't."  
Blink paused. "Why not?" Ivy looked at him helplessly.  
"I…I don't know where he is." Blink lightly hit her shoulder.  
"Then we find out." Ivy gave a weak smile. Blink picked up both of their stacks and held out his hand.  
"Now where can we find him?" Blink asked. Ivy thought for a minute before answering.  
"Bullet would know." Blink grinned.   
"Well then, let's go," he said. Ivy almost pulled back on his hand as he walked down the street. Ivy pointed Blink in the direction of Bull's apartment. She stared up at the shabby old building, nearly shaking with fear. Blink squeezed her hand and pulled her up the crumbling stairs. Ivy stumbled up the two flights, ignoring the bad memories. She finally clenched her hand and knocked on the dark wooden door. It opened an inch.  
"Bullet, we…need to talk," Ivy said in an uncomfortably, glancing at Blink. The door opened more and Ivy could see Bullet leaning against the doorframe.   
"Bout your fadder?" Bullet asked. Ivy hesitated and nodded. Bullet sighed and reached into his apartment.  
"Heah," he said, slipping her a package. "Your pop, he left already and he wanted me to give you this." Ivy stomach fell at the words, but she willingly took the smooth brown paper package. Bull looked at Ivy's blank expression, and slowly closed the door. Ivy walked down the stairs. She slowly ripped of the paper, revealing an aged photograph.  
"She looks like you," Blink said. He touched the face of a young woman standing next to a taller man who looked only a few years older. Their eyes were set and determined as they stared out at her. Ivy's hands clutching the black and white framed picture were white and trembling. She focused on not crying, but she knew who they were--her parents, alive and young. She pushed her fingers over the clear glass plate. Blink reached out to stop the pressure on the glass, but was too late. Diamond shards shattered the air, piercing Ivy's skin. She watched the red mix with the clear, wincing when the saltiness reached the cuts. The photograph coasted to the ground, silent and innocent.  
~~~~~~  
  
"He's a goil!" Ivy jumped at the sound, cringing as Kloppman bandaged her hands. Spot had burst through the door and walked up to Ivy, Blink, and Kloppman. A moment later, Chris arrived.  
"Chris?" Blink asked quietly. Chris glared at Spot, tossing her long, dark hair over her shoulder.  
"He's a goil," Spot repeated angrily. Chris approached him, frowning.  
"You never asked if I was a boy," Chris said. "All you wanted was my name."  
"Yeah," Spot responded. "And Chris ain't no boy's name."  
"Maybe we should go upstairs," Blink cautioned. Kloppman nodded and picked up the oil rag and bandages.  
"Chris is a girl's name if it's short for Christina," Chris said as the three crept up the stairs. Ivy avoided looking at her hands as Kloppman told her to sit on the bed.  
"And how did this happen again?" Kloppman asked nonchalantly.  
"I tripped and landed on my hands," Ivy said.  
He glanced at the slashed palms. "You're sticking to your story?" Ivy nodded. He gave a quick chuckle. "Alright then." They heard a crash and another loud yell from below and Kloppman notably cringed.  
"I think I'll go wash up," he sad slowly. Blink watched him retreat into his tiny room before sitting next to her.  
"What's going on with you and Mae?" Ivy asked, changing the subject before it even came up. Blink jumped at the sudden questioned, then eyed her strangely.  
"We're not together anymore, that's all," Blink said simply. Ivy sighed.  
"Don't you break up at least once a month?" she said. Blink shrugged. "And don't you always make up?" Another shrug. "Then what are you waiting for? Come on, I'll sell with you until she done working at the factory, and then we can head over to her apartment." Blink studied her eyes, then laughed.  
"Alright, I give up," he said, shaking his head, "let's go." He helped her up and called to Kloppman, telling the old man where they were going.  
"Hey, it's quiet," Blink said, walking down the steps. Ivy paused and listened. There weren't any more shouts from the ground room. Blink and Ivy walked past the old sofa the Lodging House had. They both laughed quietly as they saw Spot and Chris, kissing.  
~~~~~~  
  
Ivy and Blink bounded up the old steps of the Lodging House.   
"Beatcha," Ivy laughed. Blink grinned good-naturedly.   
"I let you win," he said arrogantly.   
"Yeah, sure," Ivy scoffed. She poked his ribs playfully. Blink dodged, and shrugged.  
"I don't care anymore," he said, smiling. "So long as me an Mae stay together this time…" he trailed off in laughter. Mae's response to his face after she left her factory job was slightly less then ecstatic. Ivy walked into the bunkroom, sharing Blink's smile. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a middle-aged man sitting on Race's bunk, holding the picture Ivy had of her and Race.  
"Excuse me," she said calmly, trying to hide the tremors in her voice. The man snapped his head up and placed the tiny photograph back on the nightstand. He stood up, brushing off his dark gray pants.  
"I'm…looking for my daughter," he said nervously. Ivy's stomach twisted, but she didn't let it show.  
"She should be around 17," he continued. Ivy looked at him blankly. She could hear the longing in his voice.  
"No, I'm not your daughter, if that's what you're thinking," she said. "But I'll bet Green is." She wanted information on what happened to leave her alone in the world, but if he knew she was his daughter…She could feel Blink's confused stare. He tried to slip out of the door unnoticed, but Ivy held onto his wrist.  
"Wait downstairs for Jack and Mush to come," Ivy commanded in a low voice. "Tell them to call me Ivy. Got it?" Blink nodded, and jumped down the stairs. Ivy studied the middle-aged man. Light curls rested on his serious, boyish face. Worry was enveloped in the gray eyes as he studied her, equally interested.  
"You say you know my daughter?" he asked. Ivy nodded, her throat too dry to talk. "When will she be coming back?"  
Ivy thought of a response. "N-not for months. She…left last week." She saw the hope fall from the man's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said coldly. He nervously played with his fingers.  
"There were things I was going to tell her," he said. Ivy's stomach fluttered.  
"I can tell her," she said, trying not to sound too eager. He hesitated, but finally nodded. Ivy moved to her narrow bed as the man sat down on Race's. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped after hearing heavy footsteps on the stairs. As four young men entered, Ivy grinned seeing Race's worried face. She had been scared before about how she could talk to this man alone. With Race there, it would just be easier.  
"Track froze over," Race whispered in Ivy's ear. He stole a quick kiss on her cheek before settling his eyes on the man's face.  
"What's da matter…Ivy?" Jack said. Ivy threw a grateful glance in Blink's direction.  
"He's, uh, Green's father," Ivy said. Race noticed the uneasiness in her voice, and pulled her a little closer. His eyes widened when he saw the ragged bandages.  
"What happened?" he whispered, and picked up her hand.  
"I'll tell you later," she whispered back. He nodded and kissed her palm.  
"Do you all know my daughter?" the man asked. The newsies passed troubled glances.  
"Yeah," Jack said finally. "We know er." He side-stepped a few inches to stand next to Race.  
"And…what is she like?" the man asked. Ivy ducked her head and leaned in farther on the bunk.  
"Wait a minute," Race said. "Why should we tell you about Iv--uh, Green if we don't even know who ya are?" Blink shot him a glare as Race shook off the narrow slip. The man nodded.  
"Fair enough," he said. "My name is William Trent."  
"Anthony Higgins," Race said, unmoved. Jack introduced himself and Blink and Mush. William turned to Ivy.  
"And your name, miss?" he asked politely.  
Ivy paused. "Ebbie," she said, scanning each person's face. The newsies looked at her calmly, but she knew they were trained to hide their emotions.  
"I heard you had left New York," Ivy said casually, hoping he wouldn't ask how she knew that. William sighed.  
"I did," he responded. "But I had to come back to find her." Race glanced at William's sagging face in near pity.  
"Then what about my daughter?" William urged. The boys shifted uncomfortably.  
"She's great," Mush said softly. Ivy hated compliments--they made her nervous and embarrassed.  
"And a good seller," Jack added, avoiding Ivy's glance.   
"You'd be proud," Blink put in, smiling. Ivy thought over the words.  
"Is she…healthy? And happy?" William questioned. Race nodded.  
"She's got a lot of people looking out for her," Jack said softly. He glanced at Race. "One in particular." William smiled.   
"So I might be a grandfather one day?" Mush and Blink restrained laughs as they saw Race's cheeks turn red. Jack shrugged, and William laughed softly. They all turned their head to the door as they heard loud footsteps coming up the stairs.  
"Green!" Spot yelled. He ran into the room, ignoring William. "Green, hey!" Ivy's eyes were wide with terror. He reached out and shook her on the shoulder, oblivious to the other people in the room.  
"Nice, Spot," Race said angrily. Spot surveyed the scene. The seven people in the room glanced around nervously in the awkward silence.  
"Well," William said, clearing his throat, "according to this brash young man-"  
"What he call me?" Spot demanded in a high voice. "What he call me?!"  
"-you are Green." He paused. "Is that true?" Ivy shrugged. William bent his head in thought.  
"And I suppose you are the one courting my daughter?" he asked Race. Race moved a little closer to her.   
"Nah," he said simply. "I'm in love with her, but she ain't your daughter. What kinda father abandons his baby? Even my pop was better than dat." William sighed.  
"I was young," he said. "So was she." Spot glanced around the room.  
"What's going on here?" he asked, confused. Jack sighed and smiled.   
"This is William Trent, Ivy's pop," Jack explained. Spot's eyebrows went up a little. William coughed softly.  
"Like you were saying," Race said, narrowing his eyes. Will nodded.  
"We were married young, her and me," he continued softly. "I couldn't handle fatherhood on my own-"  
"Your own?" Ivy interrupted. "Where was…" she searched for the right word, "your wife?" He hesitated.  
"You were born a month too soon," he explained delicately. "Hazel--she was your mother-" Ivy almost jumped at the phrase 'your mother,' "was almost 16, shy of a few months. She was too young to have a child. There was too much blood and…she didn't make it." He looked up at Ivy's frowning face.  
"So what you're saying is, I killed her," she said sullenly. William gaped in shock.  
"No, no," he assured her. "If anyone did…it would be me." Ivy thought it over.  
"Is that why you left me?" she asked. He avoided looking at her, and in doing so, locked his gaze onto Race's angry eyes. He glanced back the photo.  
"I made a big mistake leaving you," William started, "but I couldn't handle being a father so…I left. I remarried after a few years, had a son, got my life in order. My wife and son are looking forward to seeing you." He glanced at the expression on her face, not sure exactly what to expect. Ivy caught on to what he was thinking. She quickly turned to Race. His deep brown eyes were laced with pain. She'd never seen him so sad before, with one exception. The day she had been arrested, she caught his expression. He looked so sad and angry he might snap, or die. Her dream came rushing back with a cold fear.  
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I won't leave." Relief washed into Race and he breathed a little easier.  
"But I want to know you have a home, a family," William bargained. She stubbornly shook her head. He leaned forward and reached for her gauze-covered hand.  
"Green, or Ebbie, or whatever you call yourself," William said earnestly. "I want to make things right in our family." Ivy gently, but firmly pulled her hand from his.  
"I have a family," she said softly. She stood up, watching William carefully. "They," she tossed her head at the boys, "are my family, and this is my home." The dim light that had glowed behind William's eyes faded as he slowly nodded. Ivy didn't know what to do; watching him sit on his heels and face the truth. She didn't know what to do, so she left.  
~~~~~~  
Tad walked down the street. It had been a long time since he had enough for coal, and this was a celebration.   
"Tad!" He heard a familiar voice calling his name. As he saw her running towards him, he frowned for an instant, but quickly smiled.  
"I daresay! 'Tis me little sprite!" Tad said, putting on a forced smile. She was the last person he wanted to see. Especially after he heard she had been proposed to. "Are ye still alive after all the stunts ye ave pulled?"  
"Oh come off it, Tad," she said, frowning. "And it's Ivy now."   
"Ivy, eh?" Tad replied. "Given yourself a proper name finally. Well stand nigh, Ivy, an let me 'ave a good peek at you." He watched her straighten up. At least he could still tell her orders and she'd obey. She snapped her fingers and mumbled something a moment after. Tad found himself being dragged over to the front door of a diner.  
"Tad, this is Racetrack Higgins and Kid Blink," Ivy said, pointing out each of the boys. "Race and Blink, this is Tad, a friend of mine." Tad glanced at their ink-covered hands with disgust, but quickly shook them.  
"It's Theodore actually. But I hate that so please call me Tad," he said, smiling wider than he ever could have thought. Every part of him knew he couldn't stay around her very long or she'd get on the topic of why he was in New York and he'd have to lie to her.  
  
"Race and Blink are newsies I met," Ivy explained, not realizing Tad honestly didn't care.  
Tad nodded. "Newsies, aye I've eard a them." More than a few of his dollars had been cheated out by the newsies of the city.  
"We were just sitting down for lunch. Why don'tcha join us?" Ivy asked.  
Tad shyly put his hands in his pockets. "Be it alright with ye friends," he said, hoping it wouldn't.  
It was clear Ivy wanted him to stay. "Oh, they don't mind," she said.  
"Quiet, you," Tad laughed, pulling a playful gesture. "Let them speak for their own selves."  
The blond newsie shrugged after glancing at his friend. "Ain't a problem. Come on, I'm starving."  
Tad followed them in, frowning on the inside but sure to grin on the outside. He could feel the silent newsie size him up. Tad straightened himself up a little, to make himself a bit more intimidating. They walked until they reached a torn leather booth. Tad hated diners. They reminded him of the starvation kitchens that had been set up in the years after the famine in Ireland. The two young men split up as they sat in the booths. Ivy looked sadly at Tad, who resolved not to make a scene and quickly slid next to the kinder newsie. Ivy sat next to the Italian. The young man hastily put his arm around her. Tad noted all this.  
'Cheating on her dead beau already?' he thought.   
"So Ted," the Italian said. Tad quickly interrupted him.  
"Tad," he said. The boy glanced around a second, then apologized.  
"So Tad, you ain't from around here are ya?" Tad started to answer him, but realized he had to act Irish and make it look like he had to think a minute about what the Italian said.  
"Nay, I'm from Ireland," he said. Then, remembering he had to keep up the charade, "'Tis hard to understand these American accents. I haven't been in the city for near seven year." He easily lied to them, and hoped that would keep Ivy from asking any questions.  
"So how'd ya meet Ive?" the one sitting next to him asked.   
"On the streets of me hometown, I did," he said, smiling. "She was singin on the streets in a great bawling voice. She was the most terrible singer I'd ever eard!" A short laugh came from the blond one. "I told er so, too. Walked right up to her an said, 'Good Lord, you're bad.' Well that got me a bloodied nose and bruised cheek."  
"You deserved it, too," Ivy protested. "I wasn't bad I just…well…"   
"Weren't bad!" Tad laughed, thinking back on the memory of her, standing in a crowd, yelling at the top of her lungs. "A fine story. But I soon changed that."  
"Whatcha do?" the kind young man asked, interested in what Tad had to say.   
"I taught her right. She be the finest singer I ever heard…now at least," Tad shrugged. He decided to throw in a talent he had. "Here, I'll show ye. Ivy, love, hand me my jacket."  
The Italian noticeably stiffened. Tad could have smiled at his expression. He was positive he made the Italian jealous, and he was actually pleased with himself. They way men looked at Ivy, he would have to get used to her getting extra attention. She kissed his hand before she rose, so he figured she noticed as well.  
"Thankee," Tad said, pulling out his pipe. His brother had taught him a long time ago how to play the pipes, and he quickly mastered the simple Irish whistle. "Whittled it meself, I did. You remember it, don'tcha, sprite?" Tad said, using his nickname for her. When he first met her, he didn't know her name and she didn't make one up, so he merely called her "sprite." Ivy happily recognized the pipe and was about to remark, but the waiter appeared. They placed their orders after the blond boy and the waiter had a small conversation involving a boy named Jack. A leader at something, the waiter mentioned.  
Tad reminisced a minute before choosing a tune he knew Ivy knew well. As he played his pipes, Ivy sang softly. Tad could almost see the love in the Italian's deep brown eyes as he looked at her. He would have laughed if it weren't for the pipe clenched between his lips. The rest of the restaurant listened to them, applauding loudly when they finished. The other newsie whispered something inaudible to Ivy and kissed her on her ear gently. The blond stopped them from doing much else.  
"Alwright kids, dat's enough," he said, grinning. Tad could see the longing in his glance, and knew he envied their happiness. He started to open his mouth, but the greasy food arrived. They began to eat. Tad looked over the boys, thinking of their names as he chewed slowly. Kid Blink was the blond, he knew. The eye patch gave that away. What was the Italian's name? Racetack? Track? He couldn't remember, but ventured his question anyway.  
"Interesting names ye ave. Kid Blink and Racetrack," he said. None of them looked at him strangely, so he continued. "I understand Kid Blink, but what of you, Racetrack?"  
The young man looked just as uncomfortable as Tad felt. Kid Blink jumped in to answer him.  
"Dis guy practically lives at the races," he said. "Knows horses inside out. Even got himself a job down at the tracks." Tad knew the last comment was thrown in to make it seem Racetrack was more important. The Italian shrugged off the comment, quickly saying something about a Mr. White. Tad heard them talking about going to the tracks. Ivy invited Tad to come along. The one thing he absolutely didn't want to do, was stay around with those three anymore.  
"Nay. Me landlady will string me neck if I don't let up with me rent. I'll be around, dough," he remarked. "'Twas fine meeting your friends, sprite. I best be going though." He was in such a hurry to leave, he finished his sandwich standing up.  
"Good-aye Blink and Racetrack." He paused, then smiled to himself and gave Ivy a quick kiss on the cheek. He saw the Italian clench his fists at the gesture. "Good to see ye, sprite."  
The blond and Ivy both said their good-byes, and forced a wave out of the Italian. Tad caught up with the waiter and slipped him the money for the lunch.  
"Here," he said. "Tell them I had a wonderful time." The waiter smiled at Tad's kindness. Tad knew he needed that money, but he would get more in a little while--he might as well indulge himself. Tad couldn't restrain a chuckle as he left the diner. Seeing Ivy had been an unexpected challenge; he was lucky to have gotten off without a problem. He wanted to get home as soon as possible. First thing first, however, and he had to buy dinner.  
"Apples! Four for a nickel!" Tad smiled, jingling the change in his pocket.  
~~~~~~  
Zandor slid out of his room, scrambling to put on his jacket. He ran down the hallway, nearly trampling the train of his mother's dress.  
"Alexander!" she scolded. "Stop running or you'll muss up your clothes!" Zandor threw her a grin.  
"But I have to get ready before they come," he said.   
"Well, you can get ready without getting dirty. Now hurry upstairs and wash your face," his mother instructed. Zandor shrugged off the command.  
"I already did," he yelled, flying down the stairs. He paused and ran into a front room.  
"They're almost here!" he cried, continuing his descent. His mother smiled at her young son's excitement, but quickly ran back to the railing.  
"Zandor," she warned, "don't-" a loud crash was heard from the bottom of the square staircase, "jump. Oh, that boy."  
"Sorry Momma," Zandor called up to her. He hurried to the front door, and waved when the large black coach pulled up. He could see his father's tall frame, no one else.  
"Hello Papa," Zandor greeted him cheerfully. His father tossed him an apprehensive glance.  
"She didn't come," he said simply. Zandor's smile faded.  
"What do you mean?" he asked innocently. The older man rumpled his son's straight dark hair.  
"She said she didn't want to leave," the father explained. He handed Zandor a suitcase.   
"Come on, let's get inside," he said. Zandor shook his head to clear his thoughts, then obeyed.  
"Sorry Zandor," his father said quietly. "I tried." Zandor nodded, straining his nerves to keep his anger from bursting.   
'I would have tried harder,' he thought. 'I would have tried and tried until I got her to come.' He pulled the suitcase up to his room. He carefully shook out the contents onto his bed and made the brief decision. He walked over to the closet and grabbed some clothes. Without thinking back, he stuffed the clothes into his suitcase.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Tad sat on the base of a statue, his hands cupped between his knees and a cigarette dangling from his lips. A young blond boy was edging his way through the busy crowd, occasionally bumping into people. Tad kept an eye on this kid. As the blond came closer, Tad jumped off the statue. He searched for the young man, straining his neck to look above the crowd. He felt something slide out of his back pocket and he instinctively reached for whatever was causing the motion.   
"Hey! Lemme go!" Tad pulled the young man by his sun-browned wrist. He gingerly picked his wallet out of the kid's hands, and dragged him over, away from the crowd.  
"You be starving? Or do ye like the thrill?" Tad asked plainly, keeping a tenacious hold on the boy's wrist.   
"What?" the boy asked. He reached with his free hand to brush a dark gold piece of hair out his eyes. Tad repeated the question.  
"I'm starving, mister, honest," the young man pleaded, trying to pull his wrist out of Tad's grasp. Tad smiled.  
"Then why don't ye learn how to steal right?" he asked. The young man stopped struggling, to listen to what Tad was saying. Tad dropped his wrist.  
"Tad O'Loughlin," Tad said, extending his hand. The young man studied it a moment.  
"Samuel Greyhead," he responded. "But call me Sammy." Tad nodded, and shook Sammy's hand.  
"You have talent," Tad said, taking a drag. "And I kin teach ye how to get better." Sammy watched Tad warily with light brown eyes. He was underfed and undernourished and broke. What did he have to lose?  
"Alright," Sammy said. "Teach me." Tad nodded once, and smiled at the young man's eagerness. Tad took him back to his apartment, to master the basics. As the sun sank below the city, Tad and Sammy finished up their work.  
"Have you ever heard of a man named Bullet?" Tad asked, as he pulled a small glass out of the cupboard and poured a glass of water. Sammy shook his head. Tad took a sip of water and continued.  
"He runs a gang of thieves," Tad said. "And you have to be the best of the best to get in. I think you have what it takes." Sammy thought it over a second.  
"Will you be coming, too?" he asked quietly. Tad set down his glass.  
"No," he said simply. His face seemed to warn Sammy not to continue with questions. Sammy shrugged and stretched. Tad took this opportunity to tell him a little more about the gang.  
"There's a plan Bullet has created. It tests the strength of each newcomer. If you can pull it off, you'll be entered into the group." Sammy sat for a little while, and tucked this piece of information into his mind.  
"So if you do get in," Tad continued, "be sure to find out where he keeps the plans. Don't ask him though, tis all part of the test." Tad felt a pang of guilt as he spoke the words, knowing he was sealing the young man's fate.   
"What would I be stealing?" Sammy asked. Tad smiled.  
"Tis called The Jewel of the Moon."  
~~~~~~  
Ivy sat on her bunk, playing with one her long curls. Race sat down beside her.  
"Hey kid," he said. Ivy glanced at him with a half-smile.   
"Anthony Higgins," she said softly. Race kissed her cheek.  
"Dat's what they call me," he said. Ivy smiled.  
"You had a family, didn't you?" Ivy asked. Race paused, then nodded. "Tell me about them?" She asked, setting her head against his chest. Race heaved a sigh.  
"Alright," he said finally. He put his arm around her and rubbed her back slowly. "Me family started out rich. Lots like Pulitzer or one of dose other rich fellas. My pop inherited money from his fadder, and the guy didn't do a second of work. But he thought if he worked real hard, he could turn our money into something big. He brought me to the races when I was five. Taught me how betting worked and gambling. My pop loved gambling," Race laughed, "must be where I got it from, but he was the worst I've ever seen. Lost every cent of that money." There was a sadness in his voice as he told her this, as if he was bringing up hard memories. Which, actually, was what he was doing. He glanced down at Ivy's worried eyes and continued.  
"Pop had to get a tiny apartment for me and me Ma to live in. God, I hated that place," he said. "He couldn't get a job, but Ma worked in a factory. I remember she would come home and get angry because dinner wasn't made, then he'd get angry because he told her about how she knew he didn't know how to cook." He saw Ivy's face was full of pity, and he immediately regretted what he had said.  
"We weren't unhappy," he told her. "My fadder may have had is imperfections, but he wasn't a bad guy." He settled down into a peaceful memory. "I came ome from school one day, bruised and my nose bloodied. I fought a kid twice my age after he made a remark bout Ma working downtown for the rich boys. First thing Pop said when he saw me was, 'You been fightin?' I nodded. 'You win?' I nodded again. He grinned and lifted me onto his shoulders and carried me down to the candy store tah buy a nickel sack. He was a good fadder, Ive. Damn good." Ivy said nothing, but rubbed her cheek against his rough shirt.  
"It was me Ma that left us, alone. She couldn't take it no more, I guess," Race said softly. "I lived with Pop until he drank himself into a hole, then I left." He laughed. "You think you're the only one with a criminal record?" Ivy jumped up. Race gently put his hands on her shoulders.  
"Nothin too bad, kid," he assured her. She remained propped on one elbow, looking him over with narrowed eyes. "All I did was steal some food. I got caught though." Ivy frowned.  
"Seems all newsies ever steal is food," she said. Race shrugged, and continued.  
"I paid my time and got out again, but it wasn't long before I went back ta stealin. Starving in the gutter makes you do tough stuff. Jack found me pick-pocketing," he ignored the look from Ivy, "an hid me from the coppers. He brought me back to the Lodging House and I've been a newsie ever since." Ivy slid down a little, putting her head on his stomach.  
"So now ya know," Race said, twirling one of her curls around his finger. Ivy paused, then nodded, and lifted her head after hearing a hacking cough coming from the other side of the room.  
"Spot?" Ivy asked quizzically. Spot turned his head to the young woman. "C'mere." Spot shrugged at the crowd he had been talking to and waked over to the couple.  
"Yeah Green?" he said, sitting down on Race's bunk. Ivy leaned against her elbow.  
"Can you see the mug on the table behind me? It's right next to the candle," she asked, swinging her feet off the bed. Spot nodded, looking at his friend with concern.  
"Why?" he asked cautiously. She ignored him.  
"Look at it," she commanded, leaning forward to get a closer look at him. Spot shifted his eyes to the dirt-covered mug, watching the fiery light of the candle on the top of his vision. Ivy hastily inspected his eyes and picked up his wrist.  
"Race?" she asked sweetly. Race moved a little closer.  
"Yeah dollface?" He was smiling after watching Spot squirm. Ivy's eyebrows were knitted together as she placed two fingers over the underside of Spot's wrist.  
"Lemme see your pocket watch?" Race nodded and pulled out the delicate, polished watch. He opened it with a nearly inaudible click as he held it out to her. Ivy held Spot's arm as she gazed at the watch for a few seconds.  
"Uh…Green?" Spot questioned, waving his hand in front of her face. She pushed it away, frowning. She placed a small hand on his flushed forehead. Spot backed up at her sudden touch, but quickly calmed down. Race restrained a laugh, seeing Spot's wildly confused face in contrast to Ivy's stone serious one. She stood up and put a hand under his chin.  
"Stick out your tongue," she said.  
"What?!" Spot exclaimed. "No!" Race rolled over on his stomach and grinned.  
"Aww, come on, Spotty," he laughed. Spot threw him a murderous glance and lunged at the Italian. Ivy quickly caught the back of his shirt, pulling him back.  
"Race--get outta here," she instructed. "Spot--open your mouth and stick out your tongue!" Spot looked offended at her harsh tone, but stuck to his ground. Ivy gave him a look that told him he'd better do it or else. Spot sighed, and opened his mouth slowly. Ivy made an occasional hum and frown, and finally let him close it.  
"Now you'd better choose a bunk and get undressed, because you'll be staying in Manhattan for a long time," Ivy said, wiping her hands off on her pants.   
"Will you please tell me what's goin on?" Spot demanded. Ivy pinned him to the bed with her finger.  
"You," she started, "are sick. You have to stay here until you get better, or you'll get worse." Spot frowned.  
"I'm fine," he said, trying to cover up his running nose. Ivy frowned.  
"Now because Race is such a wonderful person, I know he'll let you use his bunk!" Ivy called. Race tossed his head in her direction.  
"What?" he asked. Ivy repeated what she said, giving a no-back-talk look. Race heavily sighed.  
"Where will I sleep?" he thought out loud. Ivy smiled, adding to Race's confusion. After a minute, he grinned. "Oh yeah," he said, winking at her.  
"Spot," Ivy said, turning back to him, "get changed while I tell Kloppman neither one of us will be selling." Spot had started to walk into the washroom until he registered what she said.  
"You…?"   
"Will be staying here to take care of you," Ivy finished. Spot frowned.  
"I kin take care of myself," he protested. Ivy smiled at her friend.  
"Yeah, I'll bet," she said, grinning. She threw one of the towels at him, narrowly missing his face. Spot pulled the towel away to reveal a glare, but she merely laughed and walked down the stairs. She headed to the front desk and told Kloppman about Spot and the next day. The man smiled and nodded, making a mental note not to wake up either in the morning. Ivy climbed the stairs again, knowing he wouldn't appreciate Race's sleeping arrangements, but also knowing he wouldn't find out and put a stop to it until tomorrow, so they might as well have one night. She crossed to Race's bunk, seeing Spot under the covers and Chris sitting on the edge.  
"…a few days probably," Spot said as Ivy neared him. She saw Chris bite her lip and frown. Spot put a hand on her cheek and she leaned down to kiss him.  
"Ahem?" Ivy interrupted. They pulled apart, looking at her with a mixture of anger and surprise.  
"No kissing," she said simply. She could tell from their expressions that they wanted a reason, so she gave one.  
"Spot will be sick in Manhattan and Chris will be sick in Brooklyn and I'll have to listen to you two complain about not seeing each other. Not to mention worry about you sneaking out to meet each other." Spot and Chris looked at each other sadly.  
"Come on Chris, time to go," Ivy said, ushering her to the door. Spot threw her one last glance as she disappeared down the steps. Ivy walked back to her bunk, watching Spot sulk.  
"The first thing you have to know about being sick," she said, taking off her shoes, "is you can't do anything fun." Spot turned his head to glare at her, as Ivy let out a bubbling laugh.  
~~~~~~  
Bullet grabbed a stale roll from his breadbox. He gnawed on the hard bread as he walked back to his solitary chair. He eyes rested in the stack of papers and he silently groaned.  
"I wish they'd learn how to set up their own heists," he growled. He shuffled them together, glancing through the names on the papers. He stopped when he came to a faded plan, one requiring tight spaces and quick movements. It was one he created for Ebbie, a long time ago. He remembered the way she walked--smooth and calm. Almost nothing could shake that girl. He leaned into the hole-filled cushions, thinking.  
"Geez," he said aloud, "she's somethin." He ripped out a chunk of bread and tossed it into his mouth. He let his thoughts drift as he sat. He remembered the day he found her. She was crying, sobbing as heavy kicks were delivered. He had seen her small body hunched against rough brick, and gave a hoarse cry. He had sent the others to help her, if they could at all. It had been a short, bloodless battle, and Bullet had won. He had leaned in to examine the huddled figure. Her body had been covered in blood and her massacred face showed no signs of life. Bullet had picked her up, ignoring the red seeping into his dark blue shirt.   
Bullet sighed and tossed the papers onto the front table. That day he took her with him. The only thing was…now he wasn't sure he had ever let go.  
~~~~~~  
Kloppman ambled up the narrow stairs, clutching his thin broomstick. He smacked the broomstick against the metal railing of the bunk. He laughed as the sleepy boy jumped from sleep, only to turn over and groan.   
"Come on boys, git up!" he shouted. The newsies hugged tight to a few more moments of sleep before awaking. Kloppman crossed over to Ivy's bunk, to be sure none of the boys had disturbed her.  
"Oh dear…" he said. He lightly smacked Race on the face. Race lapsed into consciousness, rousing Ivy, who had previously been asleep in his arms. Ivy glanced up at Kloppman's stormy face and grinned. He could wag his finger and scold them about kissing in the bunkroom or falling asleep in the same place, but it wouldn't make them stop. Kloppman grabbed Race's ear and pulled him up. He let go after a few moments and walked down the stairs, shaking his head. Race grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his undershirt.   
"See ya doll," Race said, kissing her nose. Ivy pulled the covers up to her chin, relishing the warmth. She waved good-bye and laughed at the angry looks she received.   
"She gets ta sleep in," someone mumbled, "just cuz Brooklyn comes down wid da sniffles." She grinned at the comment, and turned over, drifting off to sleep. After another few hours, the blinding light filled the bunkroom, causing Ivy to squint and yawn awake. She flopped over to her other side, seeing Spot's angry face.  
"What are you mad about?" Ivy asked, sliding out of bed. "You don't have to sell today." Spot turned his eyes away from her, embarrassed after seeing her in her makeshift nightgown.  
"Yeah," he said, "but I've been awake since 8 o'clock, while you snoozed." Ivy laughed from inside the bathroom stall. She emerged in a plain dress. Spot's eyebrows raised after seeing her clothing.  
"A dress?" he asked skeptically. Ivy shrugged.  
"I don't need to wear pants every day," she replied, pulling back her hair. She checked Spot's temperature.  
"I can sell today, right?" Spot asked. Ivy could see the hope well up in his eyes. She felt a pang of guilt as she spoke.  
"You'll be lucky if you can sell this week, Spot," she said. Spot groaned, and punched his pillow. "Until then, you are allowed to talk to me as much as you want…so long as you get enough sleep." Spot thought this over a little while.  
"I can ask you anything?" he said slyly. Ivy frowned.  
"No. But you do have a very wide range of topics," she said. Spot shrugged.  
"Alright. Green, I've got a question." Ivy sat down on her bunk, waiting.  
"Bullet called you Ebbie or somethin like that, and Race filled me in on what happened with Will, so I know you used that name as a…whatchamacallit, you know what I mean," Spot said. Ivy leaned back against the wall.  
"I knew I'd have to tell someone," she said, shaking her head. "Alright, it might as well be you. Ebbie was what the gang knew me by. Charley, he took care of me when I was a baby, called me Evy. I didn't like that name, so I changed it to Ivy."  
"That doesn't answer my question you know," Spot said, glaring at her.  
"I know," she replied. "Ebbie was a nickname for Charlie's daughter. When Bullet found me and asked me what my name was, I just said Ebbie because it was the first thing that popped into my mind. And that's all." Spot studied her a minute, then smiled.  
"Now Spot, I've got a question to ask you," Ivy said, grinning. Spot sighed, but glanced at her with dancing eyes.  
"Where-o-where did you get the newsie name 'Spot?'" she asked. Spot looked at her speechless.  
"I ain't tellin you dat," he said in a stone-cold voice. Ivy hit his arm.  
"Come on, I told you my secret," she pried. Spot started to stand up and protest, but Ivy pushed him back. She pinned him there with a glare, and waited for his response. They had a staring contest for a minute before Spot backed down.  
"Fine, fine," he groaned. "The reason why I'm called Spot is…and no one else knows this--not even my boys! You can't tell a soul." Ivy nodded impatiently. He sighed again. "I got my name cause…I always had da best sellin spot, you happy?" Ivy wrinkled her nose.  
"That's all?" she asked, confused. "That's it!?" Spot frowned and clobbered her with a pillow. Ivy laughed and threw it back.  
"Anudder question I got for ya, Green," Spot said. "How did you get so damn good at taking care of people?" She shrugged.  
"When I lived with Bullet, none of the boys took care of each other, so I had to," she explained. Spot frowned and studied the bottom of Blink's bunk.  
"Did you like it there?" he asked after a while. Ivy thought this over.  
"It was…" she searched for the word. "It was better than the worst." Spot's eyebrow went down in thought, as Ivy stood up and walked into the washroom.  
~~~~~  
Race wiped the sweat off of Dance's back. A horse could get seriously sick if you didn't keep it warm enough during winter. She nuzzled his dark hair, whinnying appreciatively.   
"There ya are angel," Race said, closing the latch of her door. It was a Friday night, pay night, and he was looking forward to it.  
"Race!" someone shouted. Race turned to see Joe, one of his best friends, saunter down the barn. They greeted each other warmly, and Joe pulled Race aside for a second.  
"Race, I wanted ya ta be the first to know," he said, his voice low. "I got me a job out west, training show horses." Race was speechless for a moment, then slapped him on the back.  
"Hey, that's great!" he exclaimed, grinning. He caught up to why Joe had the melancholy expression on his face. "So, I guess you're leaving, huh?" Joe nodded.   
"Look, I talked to Mr. James, Tumbler's owner, and he says he'd be happy to give you the job," Joe placated. Race nodded.  
"He's a good horse," Race said with an empty feeling in his stomach.   
"I'll be leaving next week." Race nodded again. "Til then, I'll still hang round." He searched Race's eyes for a response. "Hey, and tell me how things go with that girl of yer's and with Dance and Tumbler." He paused. "Things won't be the same without you, Higgins." He slapped Race's cheek, smiling. Race smiled back.  
"Yeah, same here. See ya, Joe," he said. Joe waved good-bye and headed down the other side, to say good-bye to his horse. Race stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked to the door.  
"Racetrack Higgins?" Race turned.  
"Yeah," he said. A middle-aged man stood before him, smiling.  
"My name is Mr. James and I was wondering if I could offer you a job training Tumbler," Mr. James explained. Race talked with him for a few minutes, laying out schedules and duties. It was about the same as when it had been with Jessie and Mr. Esell, except this time Race vowed to last longer than a day.  
"I don't think there's any reason for a trial payment," Mr. James was saying, "so we'll settle on a few dollars less than what your current employer pays and move it accordingly. How does, say, seven dollars sound?" Race grinned. The best thing was when they told you how much you would get. He nodded, calculating his weekly rates. Mr. White paid him ten dollars and now he would get seven. That was seventeen dollars along with whatever money he made as a newsie. Mr. James told him when he should finalize the deal, and they parted, Race grinning as he thought of the new challenges he would face with Tumbler, because there really weren't any.   
~~~~~~  
Zandor clutched his worn bag as he entered the building. His father had mentioned only a few things about his sister. She lived on Duane Street, worked as a newsie, and was nicknamed Green. Not too much he could work with.   
"I don't understand why I can't see him!" a young woman was shouting. Zandor opened the door and could see her arguing with an older man. The man set down his glasses and rubbed his forehead tiredly.   
"They're her orders," he said. "No one is allowed to go up there without her." The young woman's eyes blazed.  
"She's not a blasted doctor!" He frowned and shrugged.  
"You're welcome to wait for her and argue out your case, but I won't budge," he said. She pushed back on the desk angrily and stomped over to an ancient sofa. Zandor thought maybe he should talk to the man, but he had left a few moments ago.   
"Excuse me?" he said softly. She turned to him, glaring.  
"What do you want?" she asked. Zandor jumped at her response.  
"Are…are you Green?" he asked. She laughed ruefully.  
"Are you kidding? Ha!" Zandor didn't know what to say to that.  
"Geez, Chris, you could at least be a little nicer." Zandor turned to see another young woman step through the door.  
"He mistook me for you. That's grounds for a little antagonism," she said, tossing her head up at the last word.  
"Stop using big words to make yourself feel important," the other said. Zandor smiled at her.  
"Are you Green?" he asked. She nodded, and wiped her hands off on her worn skirt. "My name is Zandor."  
"Are you interested in becoming a newsie?" Green asked. Zandor wasn't sure what to say, so he nodded. "Well, you should talk to Jack, not me." She turned to the young girl sitting on the couch.  
"Chris, can you take Zandor down to Tibby's to see Jack on your way back to Brooklyn?" The girl frowned and opened her mouth to complain, but shut it quickly. Zandor could see the green blaze in his sister's eyes, vaguely wondering if that was how she got her name. The young woman rose, and grabbed Zandor's arm, pulling him towards the door.  
"Come on, kid," she muttered. Green watched them leave, covering her smile. Zandor tossed his head to look at her a final time. Her. His sister. A flutter entered his chest and he grinned.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Mae sat on her fire escape, sipping cool water and reading a book. A knock came from her door.   
"Can you get that, Mae?" Mary yelled from inside her room. Mae frowned at the closed door of her roommate and closest friend's room. She tossed her book onto a table as she crawled in through the window. She pulled her long hair off her shoulders and opened the front door.  
"Bli-" she started. He pulled her into a long kiss, pushing the door closed behind him. Mae stepped back after in a moment, gasping for breath.  
"Hey doll, there's a special on the nickel matinee. I though maybe you'd like to catch a show," he said. Mae smiled apprehensively. The way he kissed her was unlike the kiss she had shared with the boy on the bench, and she couldn't help noticing all the differences.   
"Uh, Blink?" she said nervously. Blink's excitement ebbed as he recognized the expression on her face.   
"Ya can't come?" he asked. She bit her lip.  
"We've got ta talk," she said. Blink tried to hide the fear in the pit of his stomach. It sounded like she didn't want to be his girl anymore. They would break up at least once a month, but always during the height of an argument. She looked serious. She gently took his hand, leading him to the fire escape where her now warm water still sat.  
"I need to make a confession," she whispered. The hair on the back of his neck prickled with fear. He reached for her white hands.  
"What kind of confession?" he asked, fearing the answer. Mae hesitated a moment.  
"The night I saw you with that girl-"  
"About her," Blink interrupted, "Alexandra and I," he heaved a sigh, "we were together. Once. A long time ago. And so we broke it off cause it just wasn't working, but we still were friends. All we was catchin up on was da friendship, Mae." He paused. "Do you forgive m-"  
"Yes!" Mae jumped on his last word. "Yes, I forgive you and…and remember that. I forgave you." Blink was a little surprised at Mae's sudden absolution. He grinned finally and wrapped her in a hug. Mae pushed him away after a moment, and paced across the thick black grating of the fire escape. Blink watched her, concerned.  
"Uh, maybe you should sit down," Mae said gently. Blink dropped to his feet.   
"Why?" he asked nervously. Mae bit her lip and twisted her hands.  
"The night when you were with the girl," she pushed herself to continue, "I… oh how can I say this? I met a boy. Outside. I was a little overwhelmed and…he talked to me." She looked at his expression and went on. "I guess… I was so caught up in emotions and he was just being so nice… and I kissed him." A large, heavy fist belted Blink in the stomach.   
"You what?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Did you even know this guy?" Mae shrugged.  
"He told me his name. It was Bullet," she said, trying to console him.  
"Bullet?!" Blink exclaimed. She nodded, scared at the tone in his voice. "What did you tell him?!" Mae stepped back from him.  
"I… told him about Green. He said he was an old friend of hers and wanted to know what she's been up to," she confessed. Blink grabbed her shoulders.  
"You what?!" Her hands were trembling as she recognized the anger swelling in his voice. "Dammit! That was how her pop knew where to find er. You told Bull and Bull told Trent." He glared at her, forgetting the joy he had felt a moment ago when she was in his arms. "Mae, I thought you had some common sense."  
"Who exactly is Bull?" she asked, pulling up some nerve.   
"You know that guy that threatened to kill me last year? And the one that spooked Green and told her bout her fadder?" he continued, knowing she knew. "That was your sweetheart."  
"He is not my sweetheart, Blink," Mae protested.   
"Tell me, Mae," Blink challenged, "did he invite you over to his place afterwards?" Mae's face burned in shame. "Wait a second. Mary…that was the night Mary went home with Jack's girl, Anne. Which means," he looked up at her, "the apartment was empty."  
"We didn't do anything," Mae said, trying to hold his hand. He pushed her away.  
"You invited him up and then decided not ta do nothing?" Blink said, hoping she would nod her head. She didn't.   
"Bullet said… he was the one to say no," Mae muttered, keeping her eyes down. Blink looked at her in disgust. He crawled back through the window and into the apartment. He could see Mary surveying the scene with her light brown eyes. She had heard everything and Blink knew it.  
"Stay outta it," he growled, pushing past her. He opened the door and let it slam shut behind him. Mary followed the whimpers coming from the fire escape.  
"He'll be back, Mae," she said, wrapping her thin arms around her friend's shoulders. "Just you see." Blink flew out of the apartment, hearing her small cry grow into a racking sob, and ran down the street.   
~~~~~~  
  
Ivy stretched her arms, waiting for sleep. She turned her head to check on Spot, asleep in Race's bunk. Race had to share a bed with the new boy, Zandor. She could hear him tossing and turning like usual, knowing Zandor probably was having as rough a time sleeping as she. Her arms were chilled by the cold air, and she slipped them under her thin blanket. Her thoughts drifted back to when she was in the gang, and clothes were and warm and blankets thick. Her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet sigh coming from the window. She grabbed her calico wrap, a welcome home present from Blink, and crossed over to the window. She could see Zandor's lean frame huddled against the cold window.  
"Can't sleep?" she asked softly. He jumped at the sudden noise.  
"Did-did I wake you?" he asked, nervous. She shook her head. Zandor looked out of the window for another moment, then turned back to Ivy.  
"Green? Can I tawk ta you for a minute?" Ivy was a little put off by the question, but nodded.  
"We should probably go downstairs so we won't wake em," Ivy said, tossing her head at the boys. Zandor nodded and hopped off the window ledge.  
"I guess I'm homesick," Zandor said as they settled on the tired-looking couch. Ivy eyed him warily.  
"Homesick? Then you actually have a home to be sick for?" she asked. Zandor nodded. "And you ran away?" She didn't understand how someone could have a family and then just leave them. Zandor shrugged and idly pushed around the faded green cloth on the arm of the couch.   
"I'm going back," he said. "I'm looking for my sister," he added, avoiding her glance.  
"In New York? Do you know how hard it is to find someone in this city?" Ivy demanded. Zandor shrugged again.  
"I know where she lives," he said. Ivy though this over. She frowned, and the matter was dropped.  
"So why did you go straight to me?" she asked. Zandor hesitated, pulling the threads of his nightshirt.  
"I…wanted to have a little money so I decided to become a newsie. And I heard someone on the street mention your name, so I went to you," he stuttered.   
"Musta been Blink," Ivy thought out loud. "Race calls me by my real name." Zandor leaned forward, interested. "It's Ivy."  
"Why doesn't he call you Green?" he asked. Ivy shrugged.  
"He says it's because he likes it better, but I think he just can't remember," she laughed. Zandor smiled back.  
"Tell me about your sister?" she requested. He nodded after a moment's thought.  
"She's…very kind…and int'restin and," he sighed tremulously, "very beautiful." She smiled at the young boy again. They both paused, thinking their own thoughts. Ivy could see he was taking deep breaths.  
"Somethin wrong?" she asked softly. Zandor shook his head. They sat in silence for another moment.  
"Actually, I need to tell you something," he started. "When I said I needed to find my sister…" he tipped his head up to look into her eyes, "I meant I had already found her." Ivy's heart stopped.  
"W-where is she?" she asked. Zandor swallowed, nervous. His brown and gold eyes flickered across her face.  
"I'm looking at her," he said steadily. She drew in a sharp breath.  
"You're Trent's son?" she questioned. He nodded. "I know why you're here and I won't be going back with you. I can't."  
"All I wanted," Zandor started, "was to see my sister. I never had a sister, but now I do." He smiled.  
"Half sister," she corrected. Zandor frowned.   
"It doesn't make a difference to me," he said sullenly. "But apparently it does to you. I guess I'll be going tomorrow morning." He slid off the couch.  
"Zandor," Ivy said, "you don't have to leave simply because your father and I had our differences." Zandor paused. "Why don't you stay here for a few days? I won't leave New York, but that doesn't mean you can't stay." She waited for his response. He thought this over for a minute.  
"You don't hate me?" he asked. Ivy shook her head. "And you want me to stay?" Ivy nodded.  
"But first we tell your parents. No use in worrying them," Ivy said. She stood up, tying the belt on her wrap. "Now I have to take care of Spot tomorrow, and you need to sell papers so I suggest we get to sleep." Zandor grinned and nodded. He walked up the stairs, then turned into the bunkroom.  
"Green?" he asked softly.  
"Hmm?" she responded. He watched her climb into bed.  
"Thanks," he said, smiling. Ivy's eyebrow went down, thinking about what he had just said. She pulled the covers up to her chin and stared out of the window, where the faintest stars were beginning to fade. She focused on the bright moon right before she drifted off to sleep. In another city, far away, a man and his wife, both in their middle ages, looked at the same moon, thinking about the same boy. But they didn't fall asleep.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Ivy called out her good-byes to Kloppman as she walked out of the Lodging House. He had offered to watch Spot while she went out for a much-needed walk. She thought about what had happened that day. Zandor was at the telegrapher's, relaying a message to his parents that he safe and coming home in a few days. Spot was a little worse, but Ivy knew that he had to get worse before he got better. She paused after hearing a newsie shout out headlines, wishing she had a stack under her arm. She kept walking for an hour, not realizing where she was. Finally, she paused. Ivy gazed up at the cold, white steeples. She opened a door slowly, not wanting to disturb the silence that rested in the air.  
"And we pray for the salvation of the sinners," a young man said to the small crowd. Ivy slid into a dark brown pew. The young man's eyes locked onto Ivy's face, recognizing the pain and sadness.  
"And also for those of your children who have lost their way," he said softly, keeping his gaze on her. Ivy sat in the back of the small congregation, afraid to destroy the simple peace. She heard the lasting notes of the final hymn fade away as the people closed their books and headed towards the door. They left with silence; their heads bowed and eyes thoughtful. Ivy joined the crowd, throwing a final look at the polished floors and the statue of a beautiful woman holding a baby. Happiness could be found there. She watched a few lingering people talk on the front steps as she took a seat on the white stoop.   
"Do you mind if I sit here?" Ivy looked up, squinting at into the sun. She shook her head and the young man, the speaker from before, sat down.  
"The name's Flip, by the way," he said, nodding to her.   
"My friends call me Greenleaves," Ivy replied. They were both awkward names, and both needed explanations but neither wanted to supply them.  
"You looked like you were in trouble," Flip said after a while. "Perhaps you'd like to talk to me? I'm a good listener." He waited for her response. "And if not me, He is always open for conversation." Ivy studied his face, strong and earnest.   
"I haven't had that much of a great relationship with Him," she said. Flip shrugged. She sighed after a minute. "I've had a very…odd past. And I'd rather not talk about it."  
Flip paused. "You do need to tell someone, Greenleaves," he said.  
"I have told someone," she retorted. He frowned, and gazed at the people talking.  
"Look at them," he said softly. "They will go home to their flats and buy their penny dinners. They have families and jobs and safe lives filled with joy. You and I, I feel, are alike. My life has not been, how do you say…very well. It is very hard to learn this language and to find work. You look as though you have been through much pain. It is easier to talk to someone who understands." Ivy frowned.  
"I don't want to say what's happened to me twice," she said. He smiled.  
"I was not referring to myself," he said, standing up. "I hope you find the joy you deserve, Greenleaves, and the peace." He walked down the steps and out of the distance. Ivy glanced back at the tall building. She walked through the same door and sat down in her pew. Two young boys in white robes were blowing out candles. Ivy leaned forward on her knees and clasped her hands as she had seen the other people do. What she whispered to herself and to whoever was listening wasn't important. She had spoken from her heart, and gradually felt the burden lift. She stood up after she had said all she could, rubbing her knees after kneeling for so long. She walked back outside, blinking against the bright light of the afternoon. Kloppman would be waiting for her. She pushed her hands into the pockets in her skirt and walked home.  
~~~~~~  
"Alright boys, study up!" Bullet yelled to the group of young men. He passed out sheets of paper as some of the boys groaned in mock-anguish. Bullet laughed in a rare show of good mood. He paused as he reached one of the older members, Sticks McCarey. Sticks had been angrier than lately. Things had started when Sammy was killed, and he had questioned Bullet's idea of the gang, calling it a suicide troupe. Bullet could live with one unruly member, though, so long as Sticks' ideas didn't spread--and he knew they wouldn't. Sticks began blowing off assignments and Bull had to give him easy jobs to do, because Sticks refused to work anything else besides beginning and petty theft. Bullet couldn't keep on a member for that long that worked so badly, and everyone in the group knew it was a matter of days until Bull told Sticks to pack up and get the hell outta there.  
"So what's on the agenda for today?" Sticks asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Bullet tossed him the easiest heist he had, where all Sticks had to do was slip into an apartment and steal something from a mere jewelry box. Bull hated Sticks' disloyalty and hypocritical attitude. Sticks hated Bull's iron rule and forceful discipline. They glared at each other with perfect equality. Sticks studied the heist he had to do.   
"'Mi gonna die tanight, Bull ole boy?" he questioned, challenging Bullet's emotions. Bull flexed the muscles in his jaw, controlling his anger. He walked away from the young man, wondering what he was going to do with him. Sticks watched him, just as angry and thinking the same thought.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Gary…Gary c'mere." Officer Riano sighed heavily and walked over to the young detective.  
"What is it Thompson?" he asked. The middle-aged man slumped down onto a chair.  
"Lookit this," the detective said, pushing a newspaper clipping under Riano's nose. Riano pushed away his hands and took the newspaper.  
"Bloody body found…" he mumbled, "killer at large…suspected gang--what is this?"  
"It's the Greyhead case, Gare," said the young man. "I think I may have cracked it."  
"What, you mean like last week?" Riano questioned skeptically. The detective shook his head, frustrated.   
"Listen kid," Riano started, "this case is half a year old, and it ain't goin nowheres." He slapped the young man on the back and returned to his office.  
"Jake!" a bawdy cop cried. He pushed his way through the crowded room until he reached the young detective's desk. "Jake we've got it! Take a g' ol' look at this eye op'ner." Jake pushed himself away from his desk, crossing over to the cop.  
"What?" he asked. The cop merely pulled the detective by the collar. He stopped as they reached a large room. A tired-looking young man with dark, heavy bags under his eyes sat in a chair facing the other cops.  
"Name's Detective Thompson," Jake said, extending his hand.  
"Ain't you young ta be a detective?" the other remarked. Jake frowned.  
"Yeah probably," he said, as he pulled his hand back. "So what's 'is case?"  
"He threatened to kill me if I told," the disshevled young man muttered.  
"Who?" The detective was immediately shoved back.   
"Listen boy," someone said, "this ain't your case." Jake's dark eyes burned.   
There were always vicious comments about his age and position. A good deal of them were jealous of his early title. He was only twenty-five and already a detective. The officer that pushed him back straightened his collar and turned back to the boy.  
"So, what did you say your name was? Sticks?" The boy nodded. "And you say you know who has the Jewel of the Moon?" the cop asked. The boy hesitated and nodded. Jake jumped forward.  
"Do you know a boy named Greyhead?" he questioned. There was another protest, but the boy saved him.  
"Yeah," he said quickly. "Sammy. I knew him while I was in Bull's gang." Jake's nerves prickled with excitement.  
"Bullet Tymer?" he asked. Sticks hesitated and nodded. "Do you know who Elusive is?" The boy looked around, confused.  
"Elusive?" She's…she's dead. Elusive is dead," he said bluntly. Jake sighed. So she was gone, then.  
"Do you know who killed Samuel Greyhead?" he asked. Sticks shook his head after a moment. Jake ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and turned to leave.  
"But I know i' wasn't that gang," the boy called after him. Jake tossed his head back.  
"No?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Sticks shook his head.  
"Sammy had a friend…a teacher," he explained.   
"A teacher?" Jake asked quizzically, walking back into the room.  
"Yeah, taught him all sorts. I 'member Bullet sayin he was good for a beginner. That's how he managed to steal the jewel, cause that kid taught him."  
"Do you mean he trained him on stealing the jewel especially?" Jake questioned. He ignored all the other men in the room, focusing on the young boy sitting in the chair, glancing around the room with dark, nervous eyes. He hated to admit it, but this kid might be the answer to all his problems.  
The boy shook his head. "Bullet was an expert at creatin heists--he made one for stealing the jewel. Sammy's pal told him where Bull kept it--it weren't a secret or nuttin, but not many people knew--and all Sammy had ta do was follow the directions." Jake thought over the questions that had been asked and the answers, clicking down any other information he wanted out of this boy.  
"You know, Bull would kill me for squealing on him like dis," Sticks said, shaking his head nervously. "But I guess it's a little late now, huh?" He gave a weak smile. Jake frowned, then flexed his fingers.  
"Hey sonny-boy," someone complained, "you gonna fill us in or what?" Jake grinned.  
"Sorry pops, but this one is mine," he said. He was the only one in that room that knew the details about the Greyhead incident--a boy stabbed to death after stealing a rather expensive jewel. The only thing was the jewel didn't end up on the black market, which meant it was still out there.   
"Wait a minute," Jake said, pacing. "You said you knew who had the jewel."  
"Ye-es," the boy hesitated. "It's…Sammy's teacher. He went over to Sammy's place and stole the jewel. The kid used Sammy to get into the gang and do all the work for him." He sounded angry as he spoke the words. Jake's heart pounded in his ears. Here was the answer to one of the biggest criminal riddles.  
"Do you know his name?" Jake asked. The boy shook his head. Jake nodded.  
"Thank-you," he said. "You've been a tremendous help. Gentlemen." He touched two fingers above his eyebrow and left the room. He scanned the papers on his desk, mentally riffling through them.  
"Murders…thefts…criminals…" he muttered. "Here, witnesses." He picked up a few sheets of dog-eared paper.  
"'Eight thirty-two, Tuesday night,'" he read from the top sheet. "Miss Eugene Rosewood." He began the spinster's tale. "'I knew the deceased for a few months. On the night of his murder, I was just coming home when I chatted with a friend of Sammy's. We talked for a bit until he went upstairs to visit his friend. The boy's name was Tad O'Loughlin-" Jake dropped the papers onto the desk.  
"We've got im," he said   
~~~~~~  
"Green!" She turned and saw her brother running down the street. His cheeks and legs were caked with dust, but he wore a triumphant grin.  
"Snipes taught me how ta play stickball an I hit it to the second block!" She laughed at his bubbling excitement and pushed the front of his cap down.  
"C'mon Zandor," she said, pulling on his shoulder. "I just went down here to make sure you knew where you were--Spot'll worry." He nodded and followed her. "So you didn't sell yet, eh?" Zandor swallowed nervously.  
"I, well…they wanted to play and they needed another person…so I…I'll sell dis afternoon," he stuttered, hoping he hadn't gotten her angry at him. He had grown to love the girl during the short time he was in New York, and couldn't bear to lose her. Much to his relief, she laughed.  
"You can play, but don't forget-" she paused. In an effort to reconcile things with her, he tried to wipe some of the grime off his cheek.  
"Yeah?" he asked. Ivy put a finger to her lips, and walked back a few feet. She crouched next to the front stoop of a police office, listening intently to a conversation being between the two men.  
"We got s'more stuff out of the boy," one man in a uniform said to his companion.   
"Like?" the other asked. He tossed his dark hair out of his eyes.  
"Like the addresses to the gang's HQ," the officer said. Ivy blood ran cold. She listened closer. She pulled Zandor next to her and told him in a hissed voice that he wasn't to move.   
"So we've got Bullet by the throat?" the younger man asked. He didn't wear a uniform, but he still acted as though he belonged there.  
"Not Bullet," the officer replied. "The boy didn't know where he lived, said he never trusted him." The man laughed. "I can see why. But it shouldn't be too hard to find him, now that we know where he works." Ivy's heart thudded in her chest. Were they saying they knew where the gang was? She couldn't tell.  
"And we also found this," continued the older man. He waved a piece of paper in front of the boy's face. The young man grabbed it and quickly scanned it.  
"Address of Theodore O'Loughlin. How did you find this?"   
"Seems 'Theodore' is a wanted criminal." Ivy drew a sharp breath. Her Tad? A criminal? "He came illegally from Ireland, after he was convicted over there for theft. And now he's turned to America for more crime."  
"Can you believe it?" the young man asked. "This guy can't be all that old, and he's already murdered this Greyhead kid and stolen the jewel." Ivy's knees buckled. She felt like screaming to them that Tad was innocent, he had to be. Something strong inside was cracking into a million pieces. She began thinking clearly to what the men had said. Tad was accused of murdering Sammy and stealing the Jewel of the Moon. That couldn't be right. She skimmed past to other information she had collected. They knew where the gang was. And they'd find Bullet. She couldn't let that happen. Bullet may be the one that caused her life to crumble, but she couldn't let him get carted off to jail. Zandor tugged on her sleeve, nervous.  
"C'mon," she said softly to him, pulling on his arm again. She walked fast, picking up speed, trying to get away from the men. She realized with a sickening feeling that she would end up selling papers about Tad and Bullet. Their arrest. Their trial. Their execution. The world spun out of control, and she had to grasp her brother's hand for support.  
"Green? You'se ok?" he asked quietly. Ivy pushed him away a moment.  
"Go sell your papes, Zandor," she replied. He paused, not sure whether he should help her or obey her. The green flash shown in her eyes and he backed off, not wanting to get her angry.   
"Bye, Green." Ivy watched him leave, disappearing into the crowds. She had to move fast if she wanted to save them. She lifted her skirts above her feet and began running.   
~~~~~~  
  
Race studied the pane glass desk and the contents inside. The older woman standing behind the valuable objects brought up the item Race had pointed to.  
"It's 150," she said simply. Race's eyes widened.   
"Dollars?" he asked. She nodded impatiently, and put it back, knowing he wouldn't be purchasing anything. "You got anything…uh, less expensive?" She bent over and picked up a small case.  
"There is this," she said. Race's eyes softened at the sight. It was absolutely gorgeous, and he knew she knew he wanted it.  
"How much is it?" Race asked. The woman set it down on the desk, pulling off the price tag, and dropping it inconspicuously.  
"How much do you have?" Race sighed.  
"40 dollars," he said. She nodded, pulling a fake smile.  
"Exactly how much it costs," she said. Race frowned. He wasn't open to charity. He could see a small "$55" written on the tag she had pulled off. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.  
"I know you think I'm pitying you, boy, but the truth is…I see so many aristocrats come in here and buy something on a whim, but you put your blood into that money, I'll bet. So consider it a gift and get out of here before I reconsider," she said. Race knew that this was his once-in-a-lifetime chance. He remembered the hurt he felt when he passed up buying Dance. He slid the money out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took it without smiling, as if it was as hard on her as it was him. She asked if he wanted it wrapped and he shook his head. She passed the small item to him, frowning. As he left, Race tipped his hat to her in hasty gratitude. She flashed a brief smile, saying, "Good-bye, God bless you." The smile quickly turned into a hard line as she walked back behind the closed doors of the small shop. Snow had started to fall, clinging to his cap and the rough cobblestones and the intricate sign over the shop that read "Stedt Rings." He pushed the package into his pocket as he started for home.   
~~~~~~  
  
Ivy climbed up the stairs. She saw Spot sitting up in Race's bunk, fingering a piece of paper.  
"Spot?" Ivy asked quizzically. His head snapped up and she could see his eyes were angry.  
"What's dis?" he demanded. Ivy frowned after seeing Spot out of bed.  
"What's what?" He stood up and pulled Ivy over to the bunk. He pointed to the paper and for the second time within the hour, her heart froze. Spot held Sammy's letter in his sun-tanned hand.  
"Where…where did you find…" she whispered. He glared at her.  
"In da trash. Was you planning on telling Race bout this? Huh?" Ivy hesitated.  
"Spot…" She tried to take a step closer to him, but he pushed her away.  
"How could ya, youse two-timer!" he exclaimed. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she reached a break down point.  
"You listen!" she yelled, pushing him back. "You know I love Race more than anything and you still accuse…" She tried to mop up the tears, but they kept falling. "This letter is a stupid proposal which is…is ages old! Sammy didn't mean anywhere near as much to me as Race. Spot…you, you…" She started shaking, her body racked with sobs. Spot was clueless as to what to do in this situation. Ivy was crying because he accused her if something totally incorrect and he didn't know how to stop it.  
"Geez, Green," he said softly.  
"That," she said through sobs, "was a black reminder of what my life used to be, and I don't want to live it anymore, alright? And my name is Ivy, not Ebbie. And, God, I just want to forget." Spot glanced at her for a moment, then turned to the candle. Silently, he burned the letter not looking to see what her reaction would be. As the flame licked up the paper, Ivy rubbed her eyes dry. The letter was quickly reduced to charred ashes. Spot gathered them up into the envelope the letter had been in and took her hand. Ivy glanced at him strangely.   
"What are you-" He put a finger on her lips to quiet her and walked downstairs, despite the fact he could barely walk. He led her outside to the side yard and dug a shallow hole, dropping the envelope in.  
"Here lies Ebbie," Spot said solemnly. "May she rest in peace." He pushed the dirt over the hole and stood up. Ivy wrapped her arms around Spot's neck and cried onto his shoulder. Spot held her gently, knowing he did something right. He didn't dry her eyes or tell her to stop crying, because it was a funeral, and you were allowed to cry at funerals.  
~~~~~~  
Ivy leaned her elbows against the stairs. She was likely to get stepped on by someone hurriedly running up the steps, but she didn't mind. Spot had left that afternoon, after Ivy had deemed him well enough to make the trip back to Brooklyn. He wasn't completely better, but at least now he could watch over things. Race walked up behind her and tugged on her curls.  
"Hey doll," he said, sitting next to her. She smiled her hello, and turned back to watching her younger brother. Zandor was sitting near Kloppman's desk with a ring of boys around him, telling them about Boston, his home city.  
"I need ta ask ya a question," Race started. "It's one a dem, whatcha call it? Hypothermal?"  
"Hypothetical," Ivy corrected. Race grinned.  
"Yeah, a hypodemital question," he said. Ivy hid her laughter. She turned her face serious to show him she was paying attention. "Let's say…I proposed ta ya. What would you say?"  
Ivy wasn't sure whether to smile or frown at Race's attempt. "Are you asking me to marry you?" Race looked at her impatiently.  
"Just answer the question, Ivy," he said. She pulled her hands together.  
"I'd say that we're too young and too poor and without anywhere to live," she said reasonably. It was the truth. Race frowned.  
"I'm 18 and you'll turn 18 whenever you set a birthday for yourself," he put in. "And I got me another job training Joe's horse, Tumbler, seein as he's headin out west. As for havin nowhere's ta live, apartments are cheap these days and easy to find. Sides, we love each other, and nothing else would matter."  
"Race, when we're sitting, starving on the streets, it will matter." She hated being so harsh, but she had to make it clear to him. "My parents married young."  
He took her hands. "What happened ta them won't happen ta us," he said, slow and soft. "I won't let it." His brown eyes sparkled with sincerity. Ivy sighed, and looked back at Zandor. She knew he was thinking about the first time he had asked her, and she said no. She heard him reach into his pocket.  
"Last time," he said, "my hands were empty. All I had was a willin heart. But they ain't empty this time." He pushed a small box into her hand. Ivy knew what it was, but still she opened the tiny box to see a plain gold ring peek out. A glittering white diamond gleamed in the simple gold setting. It was thin but strong, and utterly beautiful. Ivy looked at Race, blinking away the tears that were forming.  
"A hypothetical situation," she started. "Let's say I told you no…"  
"Den you had better give me the ring back cause in another few months I'll just ask ya again," Race said sternly. He was shaking on the inside, and was having a hard time keeping from shaking on the outside, too. Ivy smiled.  
"I think…I'll just save us a few months," she said slowly. Race stopped breathing, and had to snap his lungs back into action. He grinned as he slid the small ring onto her finger. He stood up and whisked her off the floor. He spun her around, and gave her a deep kiss. Ivy laughed as he grinned at her.   
"Higgins…" Race turned to see Kloppman glaring at him. He quickly set Ivy down. Kloppman beckoned Race to follow him and turned into his office. Race shrugged, kissed Ivy again, and whispered, "He can lecture me all he wants, but I'm still gonna say dat kiss was worth it." Ivy laughed as he walked into the small office. She couldn't stop smiling and realized she could tell everyone she was engaged. Mischief flashed in her eyes as she saw Blink and Mush talking together with Mary, Mae, and Anne off to the side. She swallowed her happiness, and walked towards them.   
"Uh Anne?" Ivy asked, hiding her left hand. Anne turned around.  
"Oh, hey Green!" she said cheerfully. Mary and Mae watched the conversation and greeted her as well. "What can I do for you?" Ivy sat down with her leg tucked under her.  
"Would you have a white dress I could borrow?" Ivy asked. She twisted the ring with her left-hand fingers behind her back. Her other hand rested on her knee.  
"A white dress?" Anne's eyebrow went down a moment, and finally she nodded. "I have my graduation dress. I wore it when I was fourteen, but," she expertly studied Ivy's figure with her eyes, "it'll fit ya." Ivy smiled. Now at least she had the dress cleared up.  
"Why do ya need a white dress?" Mae asked. Her blue eyes flickered from Ivy to Blink. "Goin out with Spot again?" Ivy laughed.  
"Nah," she said, picking at a loose thread on her blouse.  
"Den why?" Mush and Blink had joined the conversation. Mush sat down next to Mary, kissing her cheek in the process, while Blink remained next to Ivy. Ivy briefly pondered why he didn't sit next to Mae, but from the stormy glances they were throwing each other, it probably wasn't a good idea to ask what was going on.  
"Aw, nothin," Ivy said nonchalantly. She couldn't help a smile and soon her friends were pulling it out from her.  
"Well," she said, laughing, "I needed something to match my ring." She pulled her left hand from behind her dress and studied the small ring. It sparkled in the dim light and reflected off of everyone's surprised faces.  
"You…?" Blink couldn't get the words out. "Race…?" Ivy nodded happily. He laughed and kissed her on her cheek. The others matched and surpassed his excitement.   
"Oh, that's so romantic!" Mary exclaimed. Mush paled suddenly and looked at her nervously. Ivy smiled at them.  
"So Tracks got ya the second time around?" Anne asked. Ivy shrugged.  
"I decided that he was just going to keep proposing to me until I said yes, so I might as well just keep him from bothering me," she said, grinning. They knew she was joking, she wasn't worried about that.   
"I knew he wouldn't quit proposing to ya," Blink said, wrapping his arm around her waist. Mae glared at him.  
"Well maybe Race knew what to hold on to," she said angrily. Blink sighed.  
"Look, I didn't tell ya to go kiss dat guy," he retorted. Everyone turned to look at him confused, except Mae and Mary, who passed each other worried looks. Ivy quickly stepped in.  
"I know whatever argument you two have gotten into will blow over, and I would like to look at my engagement day with fondness, so can you just forget about it? Please?" They both sighed, not agreeing to anything, but not disagreeing either. Ivy nodded to the both of them and slipped out of Blink's hold. "Where's Jack?" Ivy asked. Anne glanced up the stairs.  
"Talkin with David," she said. Ivy wrinkled her nose.  
"That boy from boarding school?" she asked. Anne nodded. Ivy sighed deeply as she studied her ring. "Well, I have to tell him sometime." Blink comfortingly tugged on her curls. She tossed an apprehensive look at her friends, then started up the stairs.  
"…like your teachers?" Jack was asking as Ivy walked into the bunkroom. She saw Jack sitting on a bunk, talking with a dark-haired Jewish boy.  
"Jack," Ivy called. He turned and watched her cross over to him.   
"Green," Jack responded. "Dave, you rememba Green, right?" David nodded.  
"How do you do?" he asked politely. Ivy nodded to him, then turned to Jack.  
"I've gotta tell you somthin, and I know you won't like it," she said in one breath. She glanced at David nervously. Jack followed her gaze.  
"He hears what I hear," Jack said, narrowing his eyes. Ivy frowned, but nodded.  
"Race, he…well…proposed," Ivy said, twisting the ring with her free hand. David's jaw dropped slightly, but Jack merely sighed.  
"So, you two'll be moving out, huh? And you won't be selling anymores edder," he said softly.  
"Jack, you can't live a married life as a newsie," Ivy responded. Jack nodded, frowning. Race used to be one of his best friends. Ever since Jack had told Race that Ivy wasn't good enough to bother with, their friendship had subsided. Ivy felt all she was doing was pushing them away, and she didn't even know how to stop it.  
"We'll visit," Ivy promised. She watched David try to recover his composure.  
"R-racetrack is getting married?" he asked in a dignified speech. Ivy quickly nodded. "Well, where is he? I want to congratulate him." He ignored the sharp look from Jack.  
"He's getting lectured by Kloppman," Ivy responded. "It seems he celebrated our engagement unlike Kloppman wanted." She laughed, but her smile faded as she watched Jack's dislike grow.  
"Race coulda done better," Jack mumbled bitterly. Ivy caught the angry remark and took it lightly.  
"Yeah, how did I manage to snag him?" she asked, speaking the truth. She rose, ready to walk downstairs again. "Jack," she said, right before she left, "I'm gonna live my life out with Race, and you know it, too. I know we have our problems, and I thought once that they were over. But I guess I was wrong." She paused, thinking over her words. "You should trust him. You're his friend after all." She turned after a moment, returning to the bustle underneath them. David glanced at Jack.  
"What was that all about?" he demanded. Jack frowned.  
"I think I broke a promise," Jack responded simply to David's flustered face. David scowled, wishing his friend wasn't such an enigma. Jack stood up, crossing to the other side of the room. He studied the picture of Race and Ivy. They were happy. And he knew nothing could make them happier than being together. He stopped himself before he let out a sigh, and tossed his head back in David's direction.  
"So you neva told me if you liked your teachers."  
~~~~~  
  
Tad pulled the jewel closer to him. He almost went crazy keeping it safe. There was no telling what could happen if he didn't keep it close all the time. He ran his long fingers over the jewel, savoring the feel of the cold gold and silver. He pulled his hand back quickly and saw a large swelling drop of blood totter on the tip of his middle finger. Tad glanced back at the sharp edges the jewel had. He would have to be more careful in the future. He wrapped his finger in a dirty rag, watching the small cut clot and heal. The faint ends of songs coming from outside. "The Band Played On" flowed through the window and into Tad's ears. That was a Brooklyn song.  
"Aw shut 'ap!" someone yelled from across the street. The musicians merely sang louder, drowning out the protests. They switched to "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling," causing more of an uproar.  
"Go back ta Brooklyn youse lousy kids!" Tad shivered at the cold remarks. He always believed that music was music--what did it matter if someone sang it somewhere else?   
"A free country indeed," he muttered to the cold night. "How free ken a country be if ye can't even sing what ye choose? 'Tis a cruel kind of people that bro-" he paused, judging his own soul. He was murderer. And why? Because he chose to steal something he knew he couldn't keep. These people were saints compared to him. Tad's heart flew into his throat, and his breath grew short and rasped.  
Tad looked back at the beauty of the jewel, and cringed. Bright moonlight could flow over the surface, locking light inside the sparkling gems and shining on the gold and silver until you believed they were fire and ice, but he would never again call it beautiful.   
~~~~~~  
Ivy twisted her fingers around with her hands nervously. She quickly knocked on his door. Bullet opened it calmly. She never understood how he could always look so unmoved.  
"He-ello," she stuttered, trying to regain some composure. He seemed surprised to see her, although he didn't say anything.  
"'Lo," he replied. "What are you doin here?" He stepped aside to let her in. She hesitated, but walked into his apartment. She could smell whisky coming from the back of the room, but there wasn't any on his breath so she knew he was sober.  
"I came to warn you," Ivy said quickly. Bullet's dark eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to comprehend.   
"Warn me of what? And what are you doing warning me anyway? I thought you didn't like me." Ivy bit her lip. Bull merely stared at her, causing her to bite down harder. She could taste bittersweet blood on her tongue, but ignored it.   
"I didn't because…" she paused, "I blamed you for what happened to me. But I realized it's not your fault. It's mine, too." She started pacing to relieve some of the strain she was putting on her lip. "I knew what I was getting into, I made the decision to join the gang, and I knew that if I stepped into those people's territory, they'd get angry. They did, and you saved me." She tipped her green eyes to look at him.   
"But I threatened to kill you and your friends," Bullet protested. "And I almost forced you to kill…" Ivy turned to him, glaring.  
"Just whose side are you on?" she demanded. Bull laughed, then flopped down onto the couch. "And my name isn't Ebbie. It's-"  
"Ivy," Bull interrupted. "I know." Ivy glanced at him oddly--she didn't expect him to know that. But then again he was Bullet. And Bullet made sure he knew everything. "So what exactly is it that you wanted to tell me?" Ivy sat down next to him.  
"I know who has the jewel," she whispered. Bullet sat up, staring into her face.  
"What?" He sounded anxious and almost dangerous. The old fire in him had been roused after hearing this.  
"But, so do the police," Ivy finished quickly. Bull's excitement didn't wane as he gripped her shoulders.  
"Who has it?" he demanded. Ivy shrank back against his hold.  
"Y-you d-on't know him," she sputtered out. "He's a…boy I know. Tad." She couldn't believe the words that she spoke. She still couldn't believe that Tad could have done this.   
"Tad?" Bullet asked. "Sammy's little teacher?" He let go of her, and she immediately began rubbing her sore shoulders.  
"You…you've heard of him?" Ivy questioned, confused. Bullet shrugged.  
"Sammy wanted me ta meet him," Bull said. "They've been best friends for weeks apparently." Suddenly, it made sense. Tad tricked Sammy into stealing the jewel for him, then he took the jewel one night and… She felt sick to her stomach.  
"And you say this guy stole the jewel from Sammy?" Ivy hesitated and nodded. Bullet punched the chair to relieve some anger. "I knew he was too squeaky clean. Too…nice." He paused. "Wait, you said the police knew, too." Ivy nodded.  
"Someone tipped them off," she said, clasping her hands tightly. "He told them where the gang was and who stole the jewel."  
"Sticks," Bullet muttered. He stood up, angrily pacing the floor. "I knew he was a traitor."  
"That boy that was friends with Sammy?" Ivy asked dubiously. Bullet nodded sternly.  
"He hasn't been the same lately…I see why." Bullet stopped walking and stretched his muscular arms. "I'm so tired of this Eb- uh, Ivy. Maybe it'll be good when the police cart me off to jail." Ivy jumped to her feet.  
"They don't know where you live!" she said sternly. "The boy didn't know. You can still run." Bull studied her with dark eyes. He shook his head slowly.  
"I'm through runnin," he said quiet, but firm. Ivy thought wildly of a way to convince him to run. She didn't know why she cared so much, but she knew she had to make it up to him.  
"Bull," she said, placing a small hand on his shoulder. He watched her hand a moment before turning back to her face. "You don't need to go to jail. You didn't do anything wrong but steal a few things." He laughed bitterly at the irony of her words.  
"I'm a wanted criminal! Where am I supposed ta go?" Bullet questioned. Ivy stared blankly at him. He nodded his head angrily. "Exactly."  
"Bullet…" Ivy dropped her head down, not wanting to look him in the eye. Something tugged at Bull's heart when he saw her like that, genuinely concerned for his well being.  
"Listen," he said softly. "I'll try, but I don't know where I could run to." Ivy nodded, wiping her damp eyes. Bright sunlight caught her engagement ring, and Bullet moved closer. He touched her fingers, breathing slowly.  
"So that boy asked you to marry him, huh?" he asked, studying the plain ring. He could have gotten her the ring off a queen's finger. Ivy nodded, and then so did Bull. "I figured." He dropped her hand and walked to the window. He firmly placed his hand on the ledge and pushed his head out. Ivy wasn't sure what to do. She considered leaving, but just then Bull spoke.  
"Tell him to treat you nice, or he'll have me to deal with," Bull instructed, meaning every word. Ivy said she would, although she knew she wouldn't have to. Bull turned around.   
"I loved you, you know." He leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. She stared at him, shocked. The sunlight slanted off his face, making him look strong and handsome. Ivy had to catch her breath after he stared at her like that. "I loved you, but I couldn't tell you, cause you were just a kid, and I was too old for ya." He paused, checking to make sure she was paying attention. "So I waited for you ta get old enough to court, then you met Sammy. And he didn't wait. God, I hated him." Bull stopped again, noting Ivy's expression.   
"So he died and you left and you met this boy and he didn't wait either. He asked ya to marry him and you said yes and now you're gonna go off a live a happy life…and I'm running from the police." Ivy rubbed the gold band of her ring.  
"Bullet, it wouldn't have worked out," she said, trying desperately to fix things like they were before. She realized Race would be coming back from the tracks soon. "I…need to go," she said softly. Bullet stepped out on the fire escape. "Things are good with, right?" She knew he could hear her.  
"Yeah," he said, his voice ragged. "They're good." Ivy nodded, and they both knew that it wasn't all right. It never was and never would be. She waited a minute for him to say good-bye, while he waited for the same thing. When neither responded, Ivy crossed over to the door. She walked down the stairs, gathering speed as she reached the end. She didn't know why, but tears were streaming down her face. Bullet leaned out on the fire escape, watching her run out his life.   
"Look back at me," he whispered softly, blinking his eyes to keep tears from forming. "Just look back and everything will be all right, I swear." All she did was run faster. Bullet sighed deeply, then walked back inside and slammed the window.  
Ivy was about to turn the corner off of Bull's street. Before she left, she turned, hoping to see him, looking back at her with his eyes on her face. Everything could be fixed with that look. She glanced back, and saw nothing but a closed window. A bitter sadness gripped her heart and she walked away.  
~~~~~~  
Jake watched the black ink dry on the arrest warrant. His heart raced as he hopped on the pie wagon that was heading to Tad O'Loughlin's apartment. The wagon stopped when it reached the front of a respectful tenement. Children played hopscotch and jump rope in the streets while mothers and grandmothers busily chatted among themselves. Jake checked to make sure the warrant was still there. He climbed out of the wagon, trying to ignore the confused looks from the civilians.  
"Thompson, out front," one officer said sternly. Jake edged his way through the crowd of policemen, and walked up the front stairs. He opened the door, pausing a moment to survey the scene of dozens of women eyeing him over. He swallowed his heart (which he was positive had leapt into his throat) and walked into the front hall of the building. He jumped up the stairs, hearing a stream of police follow.   
"23…25…27," Jake mumbled. Tad lived at apartment 27. He took a deep breath as he pounded on the door. "Police!" he yelled. "Open up!" When no one answered, he stood back as two men ran their shoulders into the door. It flew open easily. Jake ducked the annoyed glares he received after realizing it was never locked in the first place. They ran through the apartment to find a young Irish man, sleeping in a chair, his fingers curled around a velvet bag. Jake reached forward and lightly smacked the young man's cheeks. He arose with a start, his eyes flashing around the room.   
"You have the right to remain silent," Jake said, pulling out his arrest warrant. Tad tried to jump from his chair, but was pulled back by several strong officers. Jake frowned after seeing the struggle and despair that played on Tad's face. He continued.  
"Anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law…"  
  
~~~~~  
  
Tad leaned his head against the cold metal gratings. They were almost as frozen as the skin they touched. He blew onto his hands with whatever short breath he could spare. There were more complaints from the other inmates. One larger man, more brash than the others, called out to the passing patroller.   
"Hey! I'm freezing my-" There was a loud smack as the officer hit his cane against the man's fingers, which had previously gripped the black bars.   
Tad turned his face away from the scene, trying to make himself believe that he was in his old apartment, and he could walk to the stove and light up some coffee. He was almost delirious with the thought of freedom. He wanted to go to his room, take out the box, and run his hands over the delicate work of the jewel. He couldn't. Not anymore. The police had the jewel, and he would never see it again. He would remain in his small, cramped cell--alone until they got another man arrested and forced him inside the cruel cage. So that was what prison was like. He had always wondered, and now he thought why he had wasted his time.   
"Visitor," a cop growled as he took the keys from his belt. Tad watched him, stunned. A visitor? Here? He followed the burly man down a long corridor. He sat down at a table while the visitor sat down across from him. Tad's breath stopped when he saw her.  
"What are ye doin' here?" Tad hissed. Ivy's mouth was set in a grim line.  
"Are you really…did you…" she couldn't get out the words. Tad tossed his head back to examine the ceiling. "Did you take it?" He paused. There was no reason to lie now that he had been caught. He nodded. "And you knew Sammy, and about how he loved me?" Tad nodded again.  
"I never had th'intention to hurt 'im, or ye, fer that matter," he said. "But desperate times called fer desperate measures, an' I 'ad tae do it. Ye were in my position once too, sprite. Didn't ye do the same as me?" Ivy bit her lip, wishing she could do something else to relieve her nervousness. Lately it had gotten sore from all the "relieving" she had to do. She sighed, and Tad smiled.  
"Aye, I knew it. T'ain't a very different thing I did then what ye did a thousand times over." Ivy shot him a look.  
"How do you know that?" she questioned. He shrugged, which only added to her anger. "You were here in New York, weren't you? You didn't arrive here last summer, you must have been here for years!" Tad glanced down at his hands, avoiding her look.  
"I'm getting married," Ivy announced suddenly. Tad's head snapped up.  
"What?" Ivy put out her hand.  
"You heard me. Married." She looked sweetly at the ring. Tad leaned forward to examine it closer, then fell back to the seat.   
"To who?" he asked bitterly.  
"Racetrack Higgins," Ivy said, smiling. "You met him in the diner." Tad scowled at the mention of the boy's name.  
"Him," he muttered. Ivy ignored the comment. Tad used to be her best friend, the only one she could tell everything in the world to. But now…things were different. She was different. She didn't accept things quite so easily, and the people closest to her were leaving. She wasn't worried about Race or any of the other newsies, but anyone else seemed to disappear. It scared her.  
"I wanted to know for sure whether it was true or not," she said softly. "I see it is."  
Tad played with the corner of his shirt. "That's the only reason you're here?" Ivy hesitated.  
"I wanted to know if you could ever get out on bail," she said. Tad shook his head. The owner of the jewel had made sure Tad wouldn't ever leave the prison. Ivy looked at him sadly, wanting to comfort him, but not sure of what to say. "Then…I guess I should get going. I haven't sold newspapers for a few days lately, and my funds are running out." She gave him a weak smile. He turned his head away from her. The smile slowly faded and she rose, gripping her hands tightly.  
"Good-bye Tad," she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek. He scowled as she did it, feeling a bitter hatred, though he wasn't sure why. He didn't hate her, although he wouldn't watch her leave and felt sweet relief as she exited the room. Someone placed a solid hand on his shoulder, telling him he had to return to his cell. Tad pulled himself to his feet and handcuffs were snapped onto his wrists. He followed the police officer down the long, cold hallway, which seemed longer and colder with each step.   
~~~~~  
"God, I'm tired. Tumbler wouldn't gallop today, an' Dance kicked mud at another rider. I sure wish Joe hadn't left." Blink glanced up at his friend. Race fell to a seat and leaned his head back. When Blink didn't respond, Race dropped the legs of his chair back onto the floor and looked at him oddly.  
"Whatsa matter with you?" he asked. Blink shrugged and turned his head away. Race followed his angry glare to see Mae leaning against the wall.  
"You an' Mae have a fight, Kid?"   
Blink glared at him. "Stay outta this, Higgins," he warned. Race heaved a sigh. He wasn't worried about what might happen if he decided to ask more questions. Blink wouldn't fight him, but he hated to see his friend like that.  
"What happened?" Race asked casually. He picked up a deck of cards and began to shuffle them. Blink glared back, but Race merely continued pushing the cards around.   
"Come on," he said, "let's play a few games. He dealt out two cards each, turning one card upside-down. Blink frowned, but turned to pick up his cards.  
"Hit me," he mumbled. Race tossed over the card. "17." He flipped the cards over.  
"19," Race replied. Blink sighed subjectively as he paused over his cards.  
"Look," he said. "If I tell you why me an' Mae fought, you'll get angry and tell Green, an' she'll get angry and tell everyone else." Race tossed out the cards, chewing plaintively on his cigar.  
"Blink," Race started. "I wantcha ta be me best man. 20." Blink scowled as he looked down at his hand of 24. He paused suddenly and looked up at Race.  
"Best man?"   
Race nodded. Blink smiled and slapped Race's shoulders.  
"I'd be honored," he said.  
Race grinned. "Jus' don't drop the ring," he teased. Blink grinned back. Race's smile dropped after a moment. "An' I happen to know Ive is askin' Mae to be her maid of honor." Blink scowled again.  
"Yeah? So?" he asked, throwing his cap onto his bunk. Race sighed. He glanced over at Ivy, busily talking with Zandor and Mush.  
"Look at 'er," Race said, throwing one elbow behind him. He checked to make sure Blink was watching. "She's real small, ain't she?" He was right. She was seventeen and just barely 5'2". "Well, as much as I'd hate to admit it, that a little girl over there's got me entire existence wrapped around her finger." He paused. "It's the same way with you and Mae." Blink looked back at Race, whose eyes were soft as he watched his fiancée. Ivy noticed someone's eyes on her and turned to look at him. She smiled and blew a kiss. Race grinned foolishly and turned back to Blink.  
"The only difference between you an' me," Race said, standing up, "is I', marryin' her, and you're shootin' glares from across the room." Race walked down to Ivy, tossing his cigar out the window. Blink watched him leave, thinking about what had been said. He stood up and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked to the door of the washroom. Mae turned her head as she saw him approach.  
"Uh, hey Mae…"  
~~~~~  
Anne sat in her room, piecing together her aunt's birthday present, a patchwork quilt. It had taken ages for her to embroider each square, but as she examined the pieces, she could tell the end result would be beautiful. She heard someone knock sharply on the door of the tenement she shared with her older brother. Her cousin ran to open it. He shared a brief conversation with the visitor, then ran to Anne's room.  
"Annie!" he shouted. "There's a girl ta see ya." Anne waited for him to say her name, but he merely shifted his weight from foot to foot.  
"Well…" she prompted, "who is she?"   
He shrugged and added, "She's pretty." He paused. "She's got curly hair and pretty green eyes."   
'Must be Green,' Anne thought. She could her cousin held an interest for her. "Don't even try it, Rob. She's gettin married. 'Sides, you're too young to have a sweetheart." The boy scowled at Anne.  
"I ain't too young," he complained. "Johnny had a girl when he was 14." Anne gently wrapped her quilt.  
"Johnny," she said severely, "wasn't very smart." She walked to the door, ignoring her cousin's angry glare, and opened it. She could see that Ivy had been waiting outside for a while, and didn't like it.  
"Won'tcha come in Green?" Anne asked politely. Ivy frowned and stepped inside. Snow had collected in her curls, tracing out the waves and tresses.   
"I came about the dress," Ivy said straightforwardly. Anne smiled. Ivy never put anything off.  
"It's in my room," Anne replied, walking through the small front room, made smaller by her aunt, uncle, and cousins' presence. Usually, they would stay in their own apartment a few buildings down, but her brother, Johnny, invited them to dinner. She walked into her tiny room and opened the full-length bureau. Her great-grandfather carved it for her grandmother back in the old company. As Anne took out the white dress, she wished she had more beautiful things to put inside the closet.   
Anne held the dress to Ivy's shoulders, letting the train fall down. It reached just above the top of her shoes. It was made out of thick, soft cotton cloth, and a creamy satin ribbon edged the skirt, neck, and wrists. Near the hem, someone had spent hours stitching flowers with thin embroidery floss. Anne smiled at the memory of wearing it.   
"Do you like it?" she asked. Ivy nodded. Anne's smile grew broader and she moved to step out of the room. "Then why don't you try it on?" Ivy watched her go with soft and grateful eyes. Anne could see her family was little curious about the visitor.  
"She's a friend of mine," Anne assured them. "And she's gettin married, so she came over to try on one of my dresses." She noticed they all turned to look behind her, which she, in turn, did as well.   
She never would have believed a dress could fit that beautifully on someone, but Ivy was living proof.   
"Think it fits me?" she asked quietly. Anne grinned.  
"Race's gonna drop his jaw when he sees you," she said, laughing. Her cousin, and even her brother, was staring at Ivy, causing her to squirm from embarrassment.  
"All right," Anne said, ushering Ivy back into her room. "That's enough of that." Once back inside her room, Ivy slipped off the beautiful dress and laid it gently on the bed.  
"You can come for it the day you get married," Anne instructed. Ivy nodded, still thinking about the comforting feel the cloth had. "When are you getting married?" Ivy's head snapped up.  
"Oh, the week after Christmas," she said absent-mindedly. "That's about three weeks from now." Anne nodded.  
"Have you chosen if you're gonna have bridesmaids and all that?" she prompted. Ivy smiled uneasily. She had decided to pick Mae as her Maid of Honor, because Blink was going to be the Best Man. Mary and Anne would be bridesmaids, and Mush and Jack would be ushers. She had something special planned for Spot, and Chris would have to sit in the congregation.   
"Ye-es…you and Mary will be the bridesmaids, assuming you accept," Ivy said. Anne stayed quiet, knowing Ivy would have chosen Mae anyway.  
"Then that would mean Blink, Jack, and Mush all had parts," Anne thought out loud, "but what about Spot and Chris?"   
"I don't know how we could fit Chris in, and I doubt she'd actually want to be a part of the wedding," Ivy shrugged. It was the truth. "And Spot…" She smiled. "Well, I still need to talk with Spot." She glanced out of the window. It was snowing heavily, and she would have to rush to make it the Lodging House in Brooklyn, then back to Manhattan. She probably wouldn't have even stopped by at all, if the headline hadn't been so good and she hadn't sold out so fast.  
"Well, I need to get going. So long, Anne," Ivy said. Anne said good-bye and watched Ivy leave. Ivy ran as fast as she could, glancing at the street names until she got to the Brooklyn Lodging House. She shook the snow from her hair as she knocked on the door. A brawny young man answered it, looking her over until she felt like a piece of meat.  
"You got a reason to be here, girl?" the boy asked. Ivy nodded.  
"Spot," she said. He laughed and tossed the hair out of his eyes.  
"He's already gotta girl," the young man said.   
"Yeah, I know," Ivy said, ducking under his arm and walking into the Lodging House. It was different from Manhattan's in almost every way, but she knew the bunkroom would be upstairs.  
"Hey!" she heard the boy yell. "You can't just walk in here!" Ivy rolled her eyes and bounded up the stairs, ignoring the shouts of protest and catcalls. She found herself in a dark hallway, with noise coming from all the doors. She randomly knocked on one a discovered a game of poker. Apologizing with a smile, she backed out of the room and knocked on the next. No luck with that one either. She knocked on the door across the hall. She heard all the motion stop and someone stagger to the door.  
"Yeah?" It was Spot. Ivy grinned in the darkness, hoping there was enough light in the hallway for him to see her. "Green?" Apparently, there was. Spot opened the door and let her in.  
Ivy raised an eyebrow at Chris, who was sitting on Spot's bed.  
"Am I interrupting something?" she asked. Chris threw her a glare, and glanced at Spot, who sighed and tossed his head at the door. Chris groaned and stood up.  
"I guess not," she said, walking out the door. Spot watched her leave and turned to Ivy.  
"So whadaya want?" he asked. Ivy took off her coat and sat on the bed, pulling her legs underneath her.  
"I got my dress today," she said. Spot looked as though he were going to ask "that's all?" "And I talked with Anne about the wedding. She and Mary are going to be my bridesmaids, and Mae will be the maid of honor. And Race has already paired them up with the other boys." Spot waited for her to mention him.  
"Are you sayin' I ain't a part?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.   
Ivy frowned and continued. "Well, you know how in the wedding, the father of the bride gives her away?" Ivy asked, biting her lip. Spot thought for a moment, then nodded. "I don't want to ask Trent to give me away. It wouldn't be right, him not really being my father and all. So...I wanted to ask...do you think...you could give me away? To Race?" Spot stared at her, not sure how to respond. "If you don't want to, it's o-"  
"I'm not your father, and I can't even pass as your father," Spot said. Ivy shrugged.  
"I know," she replied. "But you don't have to be. You could just...be my brother. We look alike...sorta. Anyway, you look old enough to pass for twenty, so no one would be surprised."  
"You as me little sister?"   
Ivy bit her lip, wondering what he would say. Spot grinned, knocking her cheek lightly.  
"I'd be honored, Green," he said. Ivy crawled to her knees and wrapped Spot into a hug. "From now on, youse afficially a Conlon." He put up with her hugging for a minute before unwrapping her arms from around his neck.   
"What'll we tell the guys?" Ivy asked. Spot shrugged, and put his arms behind his head.  
"We tell 'em…that you're my little sister, and Race's fiancée, so they'd better get their damn paws off ya."  
Ivy laughed. "Ok then," she said, shrugging. Spot grinned and closed his eyes. Ivy thought he might have fallen asleep, but a few minutes later, he spoke.  
"So is Snipes goin' ta be teaching your kids how to sell papes?" he asked. Ivy's mouth was set in a grim line.  
"No," she said sternly. "As long as I live, my children won't ever sell papers or work until midnight. They won't ever have to fall over someone to pry out some money. Never." Spot was silent.   
"You don't like bein' a newsie, Ivy?" he finally asked. Ivy shrugged.   
"You called me Ivy," she said softly. He shrugged back. "Why?"  
"Why don't you want your kids to be newsies?" he countered.  
Ivy sighed. "Look, I love my job, but being a newsie means they're thrown out into the streets with a bunch of papes under their arms. And nothing's stopping them from hearing swearing and getting sworn at and getting kicked at. That's not the life I want for them." Spot frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Don't look at me like that, I'm serious. It's not good for a child to grow up as a newsie."  
"I turned out fine," Spot countered, bordering on a glare. Ivy gave him an equally annoyed look.  
"They will be my children, and they won't have the same life as I did. Would you want your children to grow up half-starved all the time, and always afraid of police and thieves?" He lost his sullen look and stared at her.  
"My children? I'm not even married, I'm not even engaged."  
Ivy laughed, eager to break the discord between her and her friend. "I know, but it happens fast." She looked up at the ceiling. "Chris isn't ready to be a wife." Spot's look grew more unsure by the second.  
"Chris? I haven't even-"  
"You will," Ivy interrupted, sitting back up. "I can see it. You'll look at her one day and decide she's the best thing for you. And she'll accept." Having said it, she resumed lying back on the bed.  
"You're living in New York," Spot said suddenly. "I mean, you won't be moving to Brooklyn." Ivy propped herself up on her elbows.  
"Brooklyn is New York, Spot," she said. Spot shook his head and stood up.   
"Come on, I'll show ya New York." He reached for her hand and climbed out of the window of his room. They slowly walked up the fire escape until they got to the roof. Ivy shivered and wished she had brought her coat, but quickly forgot when she saw the view. The city was dark, as it always was at night, but there was a comforting glow coming from the apartments in the heart of the island city.  
"See," Spot said from behind her, "that's New York." He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around. "But that's Brooklyn." It looked all together different. Instead of the high buildings, there were trees and tenements. "And you're living in New York." Ivy tore herself away from the scene and faced him.  
"Yeah," she said softly, rubbing her arms. "Race is showin' me some apartment tonight. I actually hafta be going." Spot nodded, and walked back inside. Ivy's fingers tingled with warmth, but she reminded herself she would back in the cold in a few seconds.  
"G'night Spot," she said, kissing him on the cheek.  
"Yeah, bye Sis," he responded, grinning. He watched her walk out of his room, and he followed her to the landing. She quickly flew down the stairs, ignoring the looks she got from the boys, and left the Lodging House.  
"Hey Spot. Who's dat?"   
Spot turned to one of his newsies. "She's me sister," he said, and left the boy to wonder over his words.  
~~~~~  
Ivy slumped against the door of the Lodging House. It had to be past 10 o'clock. She wouldn't even have tried to come home from Brooklyn, but Race would have no way of knowing where she was, as the Lodging Houses in both Brooklyn and Manhattan didn't have telephones. Ivy sighed as she realized she would have to climb up the fire escape. She stretched her tired arms and walking off the front steps.  
"Ive!"   
She turned.  
"Hey love!"  
She broke into a wide grin as she saw Race leaning out of a crack in the doorway.  
"I got ole Kloppman to let me keep the door open for you," Race explained. "You owe me, doll." Ivy's smile grew broader as she walked back and wrapped her arms around Race's neck.  
"I'm so tired…" Ivy sighed. Race laughed and scooped her up into his arms.  
"You've been busy lately, huh? I hardly see ya durin' the day." Ivy nodded sleepily and closed her eyes.  
"I went to Brooklyn to see Bullet," Ivy murmured. "Then to the Penitentiary to see Tad, and today I was back in Brooklyn with Anne and Spot." Race set her down.  
"Bullet?" he asked. "Tad in the Pen'? What'd I miss?" Ivy groaned tiredly and fell onto the couch. "Fine then," Race muttered, "just forget I asked." He got a sly smile on his face as he bent down next to her.  
"Ya know what you need?" Race asked. Ivy turned around to face him.  
"What?" she asked dubiously.  
"This,  
" he said, and leaned in to kiss her. When they finally pulled away, Race slid next to her, holding onto her closely.  
"I'm so happy I fell in love wid you," he whispered. Ivy smiled. "Hey, an' I got some good news, doll face. That apartment I was tellin' you about is only few streets down, right by the park. It should be no problem to swing down there tomorrow night." Ivy nodded, thoroughly enjoying Race's hand rubbing her sore back.  
"Say, when was the last time we went dancin'--just us two?"   
Ivy shrugged, she couldn't remember.  
"How 'bout," he continued, "you getting' all dolled up an' I'll take ya out ta dinner and dancin'?" Ivy smiled again, too tired for words. Race sighed happily. "Could ya believe you an' me are getting married in only a few weeks?" Ivy rolled over onto her back. Race's eyes were wistful as he slowly went on.   
"Then it'll be just you an' me, love." He kissed the top of her head. "You an me."   
~~~~~  
"Hey Alice!"  
"Gracious Charley, you scared me half to death! Don't you sneak up on me li' that." The gray-haired old man shrugged off her scolding and opened the door to let himself in.  
"Your baby is upstairs with my boy," the woman announced. Charley reached to scoop up a fingerful of batter when Alice slapped a dishtowel across his knuckles.  
"Aw, come on, Alice," he coaxed. She sternly shook her head.  
"This be for Miz Benson, now git your hands out." Charley scowled and slumped to a chair. His head perked up when he heard footsteps running towards him.   
"Charley!"  
He turned around and was almost knocked backwards by a small dark-haired little girl. "Heya, darlin'," Charley smiled. He twirled her out for a moment when he noticed she was wearing a new skirt and blouse. "Why don'tcha look purty, little miss."   
The little girl grinned, happy to be the center of attention. "Alice gave it to me," she said, glancing at the woman. Charley smiled at her, grateful. He had never been able to keep the child in good clothes. Charley's eyes grew sad as he watched her smudged face.  
"Go outside an' play with Max, love," he ordered the child. She nodded and looped her arm around the little boy's as they walked out.  
"I thought you had to get goin' Charley," Alice said. Charley studied his long fingers, disregarding Alice's frown and the tone of her voice. "Oh Charley. What'd you do now?"  
"Nothin' Alice."  
"Nothing?" There was an edge to her voice. Charley sighed.  
"I stole some food last night," he confessed softly. "And that's not the worst part; the police saw me."  
Alice's hand flew to her throat. "I thought you were more careful." Charley rocked back and forth with anguish.  
"So did I," he whispered. He tilted his wrinkled face to her. "But that's why I came to see you. If anything happened to me, my girl wouldn't have someone to take care of her. So I-"  
"If you want me to take her," Alice interrupted, "I'll be glad to. Miz Benson always said your girl would make a fine little maid. Her being so pretty an' all."  
Charley shook his head. "I wasn't goin' ta ask you that, Alice. I wanted to know if you would give me the money to get a train ticket out of here. I know you can spare it."  
Alice's stare grew flinty and her thin lips pursed. "Out," she ordered. "I don't want you in me home anymore. You're not welcome."  
"But Al-"  
"You know very well I'm near as poor as you. And you also knew that you would steal and get caught. Your folly should be no burden on me. Now collect the girl and leave."  
Charley was afraid to raise protest against her. He blew a shrill whistle and paused a moment for the small figure to run to him. She slipped her hand into his and waited until he moved.  
"Good day, Alice," Charley said, pulling his cap over his gray hair. He stepped outside with the girl, who was busy waving to her companion.  
"Charley?" she inquired as they reached the street. Charley replied with a deep grunt. "Why does Max have a mamma and father five months dead, while all I have is a father?"  
Charley stayed silent for a minute. "You're not my daughter," he said. The girl walked quietly before thinking of another question.  
"But then why am I with you?" she asked. He heaved a sigh, his chest rising and falling.  
"I found you, wrapped up tight in a blanket, left in a doorway, no mother, no father. Just you." Charley edged his way through a busy crowd, sure that the little girl was still hanging on.   
"Then I don't have any parents?" Another innocent question. Charley left it to be unanswered.  
"You have me," he replied.  
"Did you name me then?"   
Charley grimaced at the unending questions. "Yes. Evy. It was my mother's name." The girl wrinkled her nose.  
"I don't like it," she said. The man remained silent. "Did you ever have a real daughter?"  
"Yes," he said. "Her name was Ebbie." The little girl repeated the name to herself. She stopped as the man pulled softly on her hand. Charley watched in horror as two policemen caught his glance.   
"Evy," he said, bending down on one knee, "listen to me. I might get taken away in a short time, and you must not be here. I want you to leave." She pressed her eyebrows together in thought.  
"Leave? Where are you going?"  
"Away," was his quick reply. "Now leave, quickly." He pushed her back, throwing a glance at the officers. They had spotted him and were now running towards him. The girl's eyes were wide with fear and confusion.  
"Charley, don't go," she cried. Charley frowned, afraid for his life, and the life of his little girl. With a final hug and kiss, he stood, and tried to outrun the cops. Being old, his legs gave away fast and soon handcuffs were fitted over his wrists.  
"Charley!" the girl screamed. She ran to his assailants and pounded at them with her tiny fists. They paid no attention to her, except to push her to the ground. There she sat, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched him, her protector, her caregiver, the one whom she loved and trusted more than anyone, she watched him as he was pushed inside a small wagon, and driven off down a dusty road.   
She cried herself to sleep in their tiny apartment. She would have to leave. Even at such an early age, she knew about money and landlords. Her life was empty now. Charley was her whole world, and she didn't even understand why he left.   
She found out a few days later, walking across the bridge. A lone paper blew up against her leg, pointing out a particular article. It wasn't big, but it was enough to tell what happened. She struggled along with the reading, pausing in between the larger words until she had an understanding. Charley stole. For her. And he was caught and arrested, and now he was dead, found in his cell stone cold. She almost didn't believe it. Charley stole something, but he didn't look any different. He was still the same old man who would pick her up and swing her around. He changed when he saw the police, though. It was then that the girl learned one of the greatest lessons she would ever know: it wasn't stealing that hurt you, it was getting caught. Avoid that, and you were fine.   
She balled the paper up between her hands and dropped it over the bridge. She stretched her fingers and realized the world was full of pre-occupied people and large wallets. She smiled, and bumped into someone accidentally on purpose.   
"Oh, excuse me sir," she apologized. She sauntered off, rubbing her cold fingers over his gold watch.  
~~~~~  
Race tossed his cap up the air, waiting for Ivy to come downstairs. Blink ran up the stairs, hitting Race on the shoulder as he went up. Race sat down on the stairs, his head cupped between his hands.   
"Oh geez," he heard. "I gotta see Race's face." He stood up, and watched Ivy descend the stairs. There were several whistles from the boys in which Ivy promptly ignored. Race just stared, that was all he could do. He finally snapped out of it as he heard laughing coming from the landing.  
"Yeah, I knew he would respond like that," Blink laughed. Race frowned at him and looked back at Ivy.  
"So doll, you ready?" he asked. She nodded, and pulled on her coat. "You look great, by the way." She smiled, and kissed his chin.  
"See ya Kloppman, don't wait up!" Race called as he left the Lodging House.  
"I never do," Kloppman called back. Race and Ivy joined the chorus of laughter and stepped out into the premature night.   
"I thought we'd head out to the apartment first," Race announced. Ivy nodded, and let him pull her towards the trolley. They jumped on and scrambled for a free seat before it got too crowded.  
"You'll love it," Race assured her. He held her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. The trolley driver called out a street name and Race pulled her to her feet. "That's our stop." They jumped off the car as it pulled to a halt.  
"Which way?" Ivy asked, gazing up at the buildings. Race pointed to a building right in front of them.   
"There," he said. "We got top floor." Ivy turned and smiled. They hurried to the building and walked inside. Race knocked on the door just next to the stairs. It opened a crack, revealing a middle-aged woman and the front of her apartment. As she recognized who was there, she stepped out.  
"Oh, you're the young chap int'rested in the upstairs flat, eh?" she asked in a cheerful English accent. Race nodded and pulled Ivy forward.  
"This is my fiancée, Ivy," he said. Ivy smiled and nodded towards the woman.  
"Well, it'll sure be a jolly fine change to 'ave a pair of youngsters in the buildin'," she said, smiling. "Come, I'll show you the place." She shut the door to her own apartment and walked briskly up the stairs. Race and Ivy followed, just barely keeping up. The woman stopped when she reached the top floor, and took out a key.  
"Number 51," she said. "And you're our only top floor residents." She pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Fully furnished." Ivy smiled as she saw the apartment. It was just bordering on being too small for the two of them, and she knew it would be a tight fit with children, but she didn't care.  
"And two bedrooms, right?" Race asked.  
"Three," the woman corrected. "One is very small, really not much more than a large closet, but it is still a bedroom." Race threw a glance at Ivy, who smiled happily. She paused suddenly.  
"What?" Race asked. Ivy put a finger to her lips.  
"Listen," she instructed. Race and the woman paused. They could hear a slow melody elevating from a downstairs apartment. "Music," Ivy sighed.  
"Ah, yes," the woman said. "Mr…I believe his name is Mr. Redwood. He teaches piano to advanced students." Race smiled at her, as if he had just handed her a present.  
"You knew, didn't you," Ivy accused. He nodded, grinning. Ivy laughed and ran into his arms. "I love it," she whispered.   
"Then it's decided?" the woman asked. Race nodded. "Good. I already explained the rent to you. I hope you enjoy living here. Good evening." She reached for the doorknob. "Oh! And my name, of course. You my call me Rose, or Mrs. Rusmin." She shook hands with both Race and Ivy and left.  
Race spun Ivy put and pulled her back in. "Who needs to go out dancin' when we got our own music right here?" he asked. Ivy smiled and nodded.   
"Shall we stay in for the night?" Ivy whispered. Race grinned, his eyes alive.  
"Great idea," he announced, and pulled her into a waltz.  
"Where did you learn how to waltz?" Ivy laughed. Race shrugged, and stepped with the music.  
"One of the boys' sisters needed a partner and I was about her height. And that's not all. I can foxtrot too." Ivy doubled in laughter. The picture of Race doing any sort of dance cracked her up. "Hey, what's so funny?" Race demanded.  
"I-I'm sorry," Ivy gasped. Race frowned and doubled the pace of the dance, causing Ivy to lose her balance more than once. As soon as she fell on the floor, he stopped.   
"Still think it's funny?" he asked. Ivy leaned back on her hands, laughing.  
"Yeah," she said. Race threw his hands in the air and bent down.  
"I'll show you what's funny," he said slyly. He reached down and did the only sensible thing: he tickled her until she cried bloody murder.   
"Race!" she shrieked. "Get off!" Between laughing and shouting, she was out of breath. Race grinned and stood up.   
"Well, I think ya learned your lesson," he announced, and gave her his hand to help her up. He kissed her once, and put his hand on her hip. "Care to dance…again?" Ivy smiled after a moment and slid her hand into his.   
"So," he said, ejecting the word as if it were his last, "we're getting' married. Hey, how's Tad doin'? You said he was in jail?" Ivy said nothing, but laid her head on his shoulder. "Don't want to talk about it?" She shook her head. Race sighed, and continued stepping in time. He decided asking about Bullet would reach the same dead end. "You been alright lately kid? You seem outta it."   
Ivy's heart was pounding. She was angry at Race for bringing up Tad. His trial was that day. A week before she had visited him, he had the trial deciding whether or not he had stolen the jewel. And today was his trial on Sammy's murder. She had forgotten, until Race brought it up.   
"Just…just dance with me," she said softly. Race a little surprised at her response.  
"S-sure Ivy," he said. They swayed in a slow pattern. Late into the night, the music stopped, and the player rested, but they went on, dancing.  
~~~~~  
"Hand me that hair pin?"  
Mae picked up the 2-inch pin and passed it to Mary.   
"Almost done?" Ivy complained. Mae frowned at her.  
"I'd be happy to get pampered like this," she said. Ivy groaned, and watched herself in the mirror. Mae broke off her scowl and finally laughed. "Come on, Green, you look great."  
Ivy gave her a look as if to say, "Really? I don't care!" There was a curt knock on the door of the room that was reserved for the bride.   
"I'll get it!" Ivy exclaimed. She ducked under Mary's arms and pulled her long skirt up so she could run.  
"If you rip my dress, you'll get it," Anne threatened as Ivy ran past. Ivy flung open the door to see Spot, Mush, and Blink. There was a box under Blink's arm.   
"We just stopped by to see how the bride was doing," Blink said, grinning. Spot landed a kiss on her cheek.  
"Bored out of her mind," Ivy responded. The boys laughed and Blink held out the box to her.  
"Here," he said. "It's a wedding present." Ivy took it, her eyes taking in the snowy white box and silver ribbons.  
"It's from the four of us," Mush continued. "Well, the three of us and Jack. We don't know where he is." Ivy smiled gratefully and slipped the ribbons off.  
"Oh, guys," she said softly. Her hands ran over the soft rose petals, and quickly went up to wipe her eyes. "Flowers in December."  
"We thought…maybe you'd like a bouquet for the wedding," Spot explained, grinning. "'Sides," he added with a smile, "maybe one of our goils will catch it." Ivy laughed, tearing her eyes away from the beautiful arrangement of flowers. She tried to hug all three of them and couldn't because of the flowers.   
"We got Race a cigar," Mush said, grinning. She laughed again, her eyes showing unending joy. She thought she would never get to be a summer bride with bare feet and an outdoor wedding with flowers in her hair. Well, she still wore shoes, and the service was inside the small chapel Race's family went to, but at least she got her flowers.   
"Green?" Anne called. "Who's there?" She could hear Anne walk up to the door. "Oh hey boys." She smiled to each of them, a little disappointed Jack wasn't among them.  
"Hey Anne," Spot said, Mush and Blink adding their greetings. Anne frowned after a moment.  
"As much as I'd hate to break this up, you guys aren't even changed yet," she said. And she was right. They were still wearing their newsies garb like every other day. Blink blushed and smiled.  
"I told you guys we shoulda gotten changed before we came to see 'er," he said, shaking his head. Ivy laughed and gave them each a kiss on the cheek.  
"See ya boys," she whispered. They waved goodbye, Spot yelling a "Meetcha down the aisle, sis" and Ivy closed the door. Immediately after, a white envelope slipped under the door.  
"What's that?" Anne asked, picking it up. She read it over, then handed it to Ivy. "Must be from Race. It's got 'Ivy' written on it." Ivy looked at the envelope, recognizing someone else's hand.  
"It's not from Race," she said, sitting down in a chair. Mae and Mary were still on the other side of the room, not paying attention to either Ivy or Anne. Ivy carefully undid the seal of the envelope, and pulled out a bright white letter. Her hands trembling, she read.  
Dear Ivy,  
By the time this letter gets to you, I'll be gone. Either on a train or in Philadelphia, but far away from police and jails. I prayed to God that you'd be reading this after your wedding, and if you aren't, I apologize. The reason is this: I wanted to say once and for all I love you. And that's all. I can offer you the world, although I'm in no position to do so now. I hope I haven't affected your life. You don't have any idea how much you mean to me, and you never really did. I want this to be fixed. If you're ever in Philadelphia, look me up. I promise I won't ever forget you, and I can only hope you'll say the same for me. My train leaves in an hour, so I must leave, but I'll say this: I have always and completely loved you, and I won't ever stop.  
-Bullet  
Ivy's heart stopped as suddenly as the letter had.  
"Green?" Anne asked, concerned. She reached out to touch her friend's shoulder. Ivy handed the letter to Anne.  
"Could you hold onto this for me?" she asked. Anne nodded, and took the letter.   
"Thanks." Ivy stood up and walked over to Mae and Mary. "So I guess we'd better get finished, huh?" Mae smiled and Mary moved forward with her brush. Ivy caught Anne's worried glance, and promptly ignored it. She wasn't going to let it ruin her wedding day.   
"There," Mary said, adjusting a final curl. "Now you look perfect." Ivy stared into the mirror. A stranger in a lacey dress and done up hair stared back. She wrinkled her nose.  
"I hate fancy things," she remarked, getting a laugh from her friends. "I wish Race and I had eloped." The girls all smiled to each other, and quickly did their hair, the light blue taffeta dresses swishing with every movement. "I'll be glad when this whole thing is over and me an' Race can just go home."  
"Well first," Mae said, resting her chin on Ivy's shoulder, "you get married. Then you have a reception, then you go home." Ivy groaned and Mae gave her an encouraging hug.   
"Well, aren't you glad that the service is starting right now," Mary put in. Ivy's heart raced.  
"Now?" she asked, feeling lightheaded. They each nodded, ushering her out of the room, where Spot was waiting in the hallway.  
"Heya Ivy Conlon," he said, grinning. He took her arm and walked down the hallway, to the front of the church. "You look outstandin'."  
Ivy smiled weakly. "That's not how I feel. I just want this whole thing to be over in 5 minutes," she said. Spot smiled.  
"Aww, it's just jitters. Don't worry kid, you'll be fine." He patted her hand comfortingly. They walked up to a set of closed double doors and watched the girls pair up with their boys. They whispered words of encouragement to the nervous bride, and watched as she took deep breaths. The music started playing, and Ivy's stomach knotted.  
"I knew we should have eloped," she whispered to Spot. Spot sighed and lined up behind Mush and Mary. The three couples walked down the aisle, arm in arm. The music changed, and Spot leaned down next to her.  
"That's our cue, Green," he said softly. Ivy passed him a nervous smile and started walking. Before she knew it, she was standing next to Race, with Spot on one side of her and an Italian priest in front of her. She said her vows, smiling at Race with her eyes.   
Jack watched the entire service, his heart aching. He thought he had made up with Ivy, but obviously he hadn't.   
"And do you Ivy Conlon take Anthony Higgins in Holy Matrimony?"  
His entire soul longed to yell to stop the wedding, that this wasn't right. Ivy and Race? That couldn't be right.  
"If there are any among you who have just cause or reason to why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."  
Jack ran a nervous hand through his hair. He could feel everyone's attention on him, questioning him. Would he say it? Jack heaved a sigh, and slipped out from the wedding party, and out of the chapel. Anne watched him go, wanting to go with him. She made a movement forward, but Mae put a hand on her wrist, telling her that two departures would only upset this more.   
"Then I now pronounce you man and wife," the priest continued. "You may kiss the bride." Race grinned at his wife, kissing her for what seemed like a blessed eternity. Ivy's heart danced with joy at the thought that Race would always be there for her, and she couldn't wait to be there for him.  
~~~~~  
  
Ivy leaned against the wall of Tibby's. The reception was in full swing and she couldn't find Race anywhere. She stood on tiptoes, trying to look over the crowd, and telling herself that if she got swept into one more conversation, she might have to kill herself. She wanted to find Race and tell him that it was well past midnight and she was dead tired.  
"Specs!" she yelled over the loud noise of the crowd. Specs turned, setting his glass down, and walked over to her.  
"Green," he said, as if waiting for his orders.   
"Have you seen-"  
"What?"  
"Have you seen Race?" she yelled. Specs shook his head.  
"No!" he yelled back. Ivy sighed and turned.  
"Thanks any-"  
"What?"  
"Never mind!" Ivy shouted. Specs shrugged and joined the crowd again. Ivy resumed walking along the wall, dodging eye contact with the newsies, the staff, and anyone else that had been invited to Race and Ivy's reception.  
"Green," someone said, pulling her into a doorway. Ivy found herself looking up at a very annoyed Jack.  
"Yeah?" she asked indifferently. Jack sighed, and looked as though he would like to hit his head against the wall a few times just so that maybe he'd get knocked out and wouldn't have to say whatever he was going to say. "Look, Jack, I saw you leave, and-"  
"And do you know it killed me to watch?" Jack asked. Ivy paused. Well she had had the idea. "I couldn't stand watching Race an' you get hitched. It was rubbing me wrong." Ivy folded her arms over her chest.  
"I though we already had this conversation," she said. Jack shot her a glare.  
"Yeah, me too," he remarked. "But…you never knew why I didn't like you." Ivy opened her mouth to throw out some suggestions and he shook his head. "You're wrong and you haven't even said anything. Even the first time I met you, you've always lied to me."  
"I had to," Ivy protested. "I mean, it wasn't safe to talk."  
"You talked to Race," Jack frowned. "And you talked to Blink and Mush and Spot."  
Ivy shrugged. "I talked to you," she muttered. Jack laughed bitterly.  
"You told Race who was after you, you told Blink you loved Race, you told Mush your fears, you told Spot everything…" he paused, "you told me you had an abusive father you were running away from." Ivy stared down at her feet, her cheeks slightly red.  
"I didn't tell you anything because I couldn't trust you," Ivy said.   
"Couldn't trust me why?" Jack demanded. Ivy shot him a look as if to say "you already know." "Blink was the same way and you two are inseparable."  
"You told Race I was no good," Ivy glared. Jack was the one to look embarrassed and he leaned back against the door, his head facing up.   
"I was jealous, ok?"  
"What?"  
Jack closed his eyes. "I was jealous 'cause everyone saw this wonderful side ta you, and all ya showed me was…" he trailed off, not wanting to say any of the ugly words that were racing through both of their minds. "So I told him you weren't no good, and to me you weren't. All you were was a constant pain in me side." Ivy didn't talk for a few minutes.  
"I never gave you a chance to redeem yourself," she said softly. Jack remained silent, shifting from foot to foot. "I'm sorry. I wish you had told me weeks ago."   
Jack sighed. "Yeah, me too."  
"Well at least we fixed it," Ivy said. "It was fun though, sometimes, wasn't it?" Jack showed the slightest hint of a smile. "Like remember the time we almost brought down the Lodging House because we were fighting and Kloppman threatened to throw us out?" Jack laughed at the memory. And although she didn't want to say it, the words came from her mouth. "We're ok, right?"  
Jack grinned. "Yeah, we're ok," he said, and Ivy knew it was the truth. She smiled, and continued looking for Race. She was spun around suddenly and swept into a kiss. She pulled away, watching Race's delighted grin  
"Great party, ain't it doll face?" he said. Ivy nodded, and leaned up on tiptoes to whisper into his ear.  
"Don't think we should be getting home?"  
Race frowned. "No," he said. Ivy shot him a look.  
"Don't you think we should get home?" she asked again. Race started to look at her strangely before catching on.  
"Oh. Oh! Yeah, let's go," he said, making his way through the crowd.  
"Race," Ivy laughed. "We have to say good night to our guests." Race grinned and stood on one of the tables.  
"Uh, 'scuse me everyone," he said in a loud voice. "I'm glad youse all decided to come, but me and the missus need to be getting off home." He winked to the newsies and got a series of hoots and whistles as a response. He jumped off the table, kissing a blushing Ivy and starting to the door.   
"Hey you two. Could ya wait a sec'?"   
Race and Ivy looked back to see Spot approaching them. "Uh, sure," Race said. "But only fer a minute."  
Spot smiled. "Don' worry. I'm just going ta tawk with Race about takin' care of me Ivy." He clapped a hand onto Race's back and started to the side of the restaurant.  
"Oh, good," Ivy heard someone say. "You haven't left yet." She watched Blink sidle up to her, grinning. Ivy smiled back, taking her eyes of Race and Spot for a moment. "I wanted to talk with you."  
"About what?" Ivy asked. Blink merely smiled.  
"Race beat me to ya," he said suddenly. Ivy raised an eyebrow. "No, no, I'm serious. From da moment I laid eyes on you, I thought 'now here's a dame that would look good on any guys' arm.'" Right about here Ivy had burst into laughter, causing Blink to blush furiously. "Stop laughing, I'm serious," Blink repeated. Ivy quickly swallowed whatever laughter she had left.  
"Sorry Blink," she apologized, her now bright blue eyes dancing.   
Blink frowned and continued. "Anyway," he said, stressing the word, "I woulda courted you meself, but Race had already laid his eyes on you, and from that day, you were his." He shrugged. "All for th' best, I suppose. I met Mae, now, anyway." Ivy smiled.  
"So you've worked whatever was wrong out?" she asked, knowing the obvious answer.  
"Yeah," Blink replied, nodding his blond head. "I think we needed ta break up for real before we could be together for real." Ivy looked at him for a moment. She didn't exactly understand what he meant by that, but at least he looked happy. They turned and watched as Spot came back, leading Race by the shoulder.  
"…my sister," Spot was saying. "So don't forget." Race sighed, but his eyes quickly sparkled with mischief.  
"Yeah," he said nonchalantly, "I know she's your sister." Spot threw him a murderous glance, with Race replied with a wink and a sideways grin. Ivy jumped in before Spot could react, leading Race by the hand.  
"Good night Spot!" she called. "Night Blink!" Race waved good-bye to his friends and held onto Ivy's hand as they pushed their way through the door and outside into a frigid night. Race coaxed a dance out Ivy, swirling her until her skirt bellowed out like a bell. They slid underneath the moonlight, laughing and spinning to the music only they could hear.  
"Remind to always dance with you at 1 in the morning on a freezing winter night, ok?" Race asked. He pulled Ivy closer, studying her eyes.  
"Promise," she said, just before she kissed him  
~~~~~  
"Wha' 'm I doing here? Oh, I know. I stole something and murdered someone tae get it. Well, 'twasn't my fault. Nay, not near me fault. I may have done the actions, but only because of one person. That girl. That loathsome Ivy. I was an absolute saint to her, and how does she repay me? By running off and ruinin' me finest hopes!" He scowled bitterly, bringing up the angry memories. "I met 'er back in Ireland, afta she was starvin' and dirty. Taught her how tae sing, gave her me own mam's clothes, gave her a chance at life. If it weren't fer me, she'd still be back in Donnegal, beggin' for spare change in exchange fer her poor tunes." He toppled back onto his bed, stretching out his legs and tucking his arms behind his head. The cop on the beat walked past him, looking indignantly at the mumbling boy.  
"Hey!" he called, rapping his cane against the bars. "Quiet in there." The boy ignored him and continued talking.  
"So when she fine'ly got enough pounds tae go tae America, a course I went with 'er. But I didn't stay up in a fine room. No, I snuck on, risking life an' limb fer her. I coulda stayed with 'er in America, but I 'ad a family tae look after. There wasn't anything left for me then to go back home, still ridin' in cargo mind you. 'Twasn't worth it. I came 'ome finding all me family members dead. Me brother an' Mam and Da--all killed somehow. 'Ah, young Theodore. 'Tis a sad thing I must bear to ye, lad. Ye family was killed.' The priest had to tell me. I suppose now I should 'ave jumped up my heels at the message. I could shove off fer America with me family's money. Not that there was enough, but I took care a that with stealin'." A smile stretched across his lips.  
"No teacher and I could still pull up enough trouble to bring those ruddy Scottish Yard chaps. But I escaped them! Pulling out me ticket and jumping onto a coffin ship. Then passin' an inspection an' finally steppin' intae America. Well, that was when I was 14 and I still managed tae keep a head on me shoulders." There was a slight chuckle coming from the speaker. "Not tae mention findin' enough time to pilfer a bit from the richest. And that was me downfall. Good Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, I jumped through a window and saw it there. 'Twas so beautiful! I couldn't take it, though. Needed the right plans. And that's where I found Bullet. Smart ole Bullet Tymer wouldn't let a trick run under his nose. I was so ready! I could almost feel the jewel." He slammed a fist against the wall.  
"Then I saw her. She waltzed in and ruined all my chances for ever getting into the gang. 'Twas jus' natural for me tae pick someone to go in for my place. Was it my fault she fell in love? I was jus' goin' tae steal the jewel from Sammy, but he had to mention that he was in love with her. Marrying her. 'Twas too disgusting to fathom. I had tae kill him and get rid of it. If she ever found out… Well, she knows now. How was it that a mere girl that stole and killed and…God knows what else! How was it that she managed to escape prison and death? She's getting married to a boy that would eat knives for her." Tad swung his legs over the edge of his dingy cot and walked to the window. He stared out at the night.  
"She is nothing but an orphan, left to die. She is nothing but a petty thief and a murderer, left to rot in a prison cell. Why is it that she is alive and well? Living on the outside with a happy husband on her arm, while I will stay in this prison for 90 long, cold years!" Tad screamed at the top of his lungs, ignoring the shouts of protest from sleeping cellmates. "'Tisn't fair!" he shouted. Even as officers rushed in to restrain him from breaking down the cold bars, he still screamed.   
"'Tis her fault! It isn't fair!"  



End file.
